#maybe ill buzz my hair if this continues

[insomniac-pbparker]

a guy cannot have hair these days orz

[aerynwrites]

Remember

Halsin x gn!Reader

A/N: thank you for the request @sabersandsnipers! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy! See the request here.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: kissing, love confessions, miscommunication, drunk reader, drunk confessions, morning hangovers/blurry memory, Halsin being a gentleman 🥰

The campfire burns brightly in the night, heating your already heated cheeks.

You all finally came across some good wine, pilfered from a wine cellar in a small abandoned town. Astarion practically melted as he read the labels. Practically glaring at you when you asked him what was so special.

“These are vintage darling. Practically liquid gold compared to the piss we’ve been drinking.”

Your other companions had happily helped tote crates of the stuff back to camp then, excited to finally indulge in the best, for once.

And it is the best. The best you’ve ever had for sure. At least in recent memory.

The wine is rich and decadent, passing your lips without that unpleasant burn the cheap stuff gives. It’s sweet and slides down easily - maybe a little too easily.

It turns your brain to figurative mush, your limbs starting to feel heavy despite the uncontrollable giggles slipping past your lips as Karlach acts out another one of her battle stories.

Your inhibitions have started to slip, especially those tied to your tongue. Because along with your giggles you’re unable to stop your flirtatious rambling to the druid sitting beside you at the fire. He is also taking part in the festivities, albeit more cautiously, only having had a single glass to your…

Well…you don’t know how many.

Another giggle slips past your lips as you lean into the man at your side, watching as Karlach flops down onto the ground in a reenactment of her downing an enemy. Wyll goes to help her up but is also unsteady on his feet and soon joins her in the dirt, both of them howling in laughter.

Halsin lets out a laugh of his own at their antics and you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your numb lips.

“I like your laugh,” you say, turning to look up at Halsin.

The man is taller than you even sitting down, so when he looks down to you, pieces of his hair fall forward into his face.

“My laugh?” He asks, a smile splitting his lips as he most likely finds enjoyment in your inebriated state.

You nod, leaning forward once more to rest your forehead against his chest, abandoning your goblet in favor of wrapping the man in a weak embrace.

“I just like you,” your words are slurred as you slump more into the larger man’s embrace. “And you smell good.”

Halsins chest rumbles with laughter beneath your cheek and it just further adds to the buzzing beneath your skin, even more so when you feel his hands grasp your arms gently.

Yet another thing you notice about him. His hands are calloused, roughened with years of using a weapon and tending the land and communing with nature. But he’s so…gentle. His smile, his words, his laugh, his entire being just screams safety.

It’s what draws you to him no matter how much you try to stay away. Which isn’t very much considering he has slowly started to reciprocate your attraction.

At least…you hope.

“I think it’s high time for you to get some rest,” Halsin says, moving to stand from his seat and guide you to do the same.

“What?” You ask, the world spinning slightly as you get to your feet. “But I’m having fun!”

The words are slurred as Halsin slips an arm around around your waist to steady you, slowly leading you away from the fire. You don’t miss the various whistles and hoots from your other companions as he does so.

Halsin smiles, not that you see it as you focus on putting one foot in front of the other as he leads you.

“I know you were, but it will be an ill-fated day tomorrow if you continue to drink.”

Despite your drunken state you recognize the wisdom in his words.

“You’re probably right, but -“ you pause as you struggle to take in your surroundings before you realize you’re being led away from your tent.

“Wait, my tent is that way,” you emphasize by pointing a staggering finger in the vague direction of your tent, a movement that causes your feet to twist up beneath you.

You would have fallen if it weren’t for the druid at your side stopping to catch you before opting to lift you into his arms instead.

“I know where your tent is located, but my tent is far closer.”

You hum in response, your head lolling backwards, eyes meeting the stars above you.

“I can walk, you know.”

Halsin laughs at this, shifting to support your head as he draws closer to his tent. “Your earlier attempts would disprove that statement.”

You pout your lip at him as he finally ducks into his tent. “You’re mean,” you say plainly.

“I apologize, little one.”

His words hold little apology but you don’t point it out as he finally lowers you to your feet, helping as you try to steady yourself. Only when he pulls away do you finally look up at him, and you take the moment of silence to take in the man before you.

He’s still smiling down at you, all while watching to make sure you keep your feet. His brows furrow slightly with every uneasy shift of your body, his hands tightening where they rest on your hips.

Without thinking you reach up, placing uncoordinated fingers against the scars that run over his brow. He stills at this, eyes widening for a moment before fluttering closed as you trail your fingers down. Your hand cups his cheek now, thumb running over where the scar ends just below his lips.

Lips you want nothing more than to kiss right now.

His eyes open then, as if sensing your questioning stare. You’ve both drifted closer to one another during this silent moment, your chests brushing together as you look up at him.

“Halsin?”

“Yes, my heart?”

Your breath stutters in your chest at the new nickname, and you can smell the faint scent of wine on his breath as he speaks.

“Can I kiss you?”

The words fall into silence, and you can practically feel the tension in the air dissipate as Halsin’s eyes close tightly, a sigh falling from his lips as he steps away from you slightly.

Your drunken mind moves before he speaks, making you stumble over your words.

“Oh that’s - I understand. I shouldn’t have asked, that was - I’m sorry I-“

Before you can ramble any further, Halsin has your face cradled in his hands, green eyes capturing your own.

“You misunderstand,” he tells you, thumbs brushing your cheek bones lightly. “I have wanted to kiss you, to touch you for longer than you can imagine,” he admits, eyes softening. “But I do not wish for our first kiss, our first coming together to be in the midst of a wine induced haze.”

He smiles.

“I want you to remember this, and I’m afraid in this state, you may wake tomorrow with no memory of tonight.” He moves to push a stray piece of hair from your face as one hand settles at the junction of your neck and shoulder. “I do not want to lose a moment with you.”

His words ease the anxiety roiling in your belly, and you find it in you to nod. The sentiment increases the heat in your cheeks once again.

Halsin smiles at your ascent, and gently leads you to bed. His bed roll is set up on top of a pile of furs which cradle your body perfectly where you all but flop onto it. Your earlier statement of not being tired is quickly erased as your eyelids begin to shut, sleep tugging at your mind as you settle into the soft bed.

The last thing you remember before slumber takes you is the feeling of warm hands trailing your arms before something soft covers you and one brief thought.

He feels the same.

——————

A pounding headache is what eventually wakes you from your slumber. Your mouth is dry, tongue laying thick in your mouth as you try and fail to swallow and wet your mouth. Your eyelids feel filled with sand as you peel them open, only to be met with darkness. The only light is from the sun seeping into the tent in thin slivers from the slightly parted tent flap.

You notice multiple things at once. First being that you’re not in your tent, but in Halsins. The second being the smattering of blurry memories from last night.

Oh Gods…I basically threw myself at him!

You remember that vaguely, asking to kiss him, and then the rest is…foggy. You remember him turning you down and then not much else afterwards.

Pushing yourself up on shaky arms you try to take in your surroundings, letting out a small sigh when you see Halsin isn’t in the tent with you. You can avoid embarrassment just a little longer, at least.

You quickly grab your shoes that you see at the end of the bedroll and after making sure the coast is clear you make your way across camp in the early morning light to your own tent.

The next few hours pass in a blur if periodic sleep and the eventuality of the camp stirring to life around you. A rude reminder that you can’t avoid a certain druid forever.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Karlach's voice pierces the air as she pokes her head into your tent. “Can you take firewood duty? We’re running low.”

You nod quickly. You might not be able to avoid the inevitable but…maybe a little longer.

————

The woods are quiet, this time of day, morning starting to give way to midday as you wander through the trees, gathering suitable logs for camp.

However, the tranquility of nature gives your mind time to wander back to last night, desperately trying to force memories to light. But no matter how hard you try, nothing new comes to light. Just you embarrassing yourself in front of the man who’s captured your affections.

You sigh, before gasping as the toe of your boot catches on an exposed root, your thoughts distracting you from your surroundings. The wood in your arms teeters precariously and just about falls to the forest floor before you feel two strong hands steady you.

“You look as if you could use some help,” a familiar voice says, and your stomach flips as Halsin comes to stand in front of you, smiling down at you. “Here.”

He reaches out to take the wood from you before you can protest, the pile that nearly filled your arms looking tiny against his larger frame.

You want to become defensive, but stop yourself before you can snap. Your anger is misdirected to him when you’re really upset with yourself.

You give the man a small smile. “Thank you,” you say before gesturing back towards camp. “I think that should be enough for now, we can head back.”

Halsin just nods before moving in step beside you as you both make the short trek back to camp. Neither of you speak at first - you too anxious to bring anything up and Halsin is probably too polite to do the same.

At least you thought.

“You were gone from my tent when I arrive back from a hunt this morning,” he says simply. An observation. Yet it feels like an accusation, or at least a question. But you almost feel like you can hear…disappointment in his words. Hurt.

You don’t look at him, embarrassment blooming in your chest again. You shrug. “I just…figured I’d save us both the awkward embarrassment.”

You’re at the edge of camp now, and you stop next to the dwindling wood pile and start unloading pieces from Halsin arms onto the ground.

“I’m sorry about last night,” you finally say, avoiding his gaze still. “I shouldn’t have drank so much and I definitely shouldn’t have put you on the spot and I just thought that if I left this morning it would save you from having to turn me down again and-“

The last piece of wood falls from your hands as you fumble over your words, but a steadying hand quickly reaches out to grab your own before you can move to pick it up again.

Finally, you turn to look at Halsin, and you’re taken aback to see…amusement twinkling In his eyes, his lips tugging up into a small grin.

“So you do not remember last night?” He asks, head tilting to the side slightly.

You shake your head, frowning. “I mean I don’t - I remember some of it. I remember asking to - to kiss you…” you cringe slightly at the hazy memory. “And then I remember you pulling away and-“

Before you can ramble any further, callused hands cup your cheeks and soft lips capture your own.

A memory comes to you then, as if Halsins touch alone makes it resurface. You remember what you thought was his rejection, then his confession, then his kind words after.

“I want you to remember this.”

He didn’t reject you. He returns your affections, and has for some time now it seems.

You finally kiss him back, your hands falling to his waist and gripping the fabric of his shirt in your hands. He pulls you closer then, lips moving against yours in a way that screams desperation. He’s been holding back for so long, and so have you.

But not anymore.

Yet he pulls away all too soon, leaving you breathless and wide eyed as you look up at him, still gripping onto him as if you’re afraid he’ll disappear if he steps away.

“I don’t think I could have forgotten a kiss like that,” you say, voice soft.

Halsin laughs, a quiet chuckle as his thumb runs soothingly over your cheekbone.

“I will not forget this moment either,” he assures. “But I did not want to risk losing it to the haze of last evening. These things are better enjoyed with a clear mind.”

You can’t help but laugh, despite the seriousness of his words. “You’re not wrong in that,” you say, reaching up to trace gentle fingers over the scars on his brow.

Another memory flickers to mind and you smile as you watch Halsins eyes flutter closed, just like they did last night.

“Halsin,” his name is a whisper on your lips.

He smiles, eyes blinking open once more. “Yes, my heart?”

Gods that nickname.

“Can I kiss you?”

He pulls you closer, nose brushing your own. “You never have to ask, little one. My heart is yours.”

And then his lips are on yours again, and you're silently glad he made you wait. Because he was right.

You don’t want to lose a moment with him, either.

[dreamersbcll]

You know what would be cool? If instead of wes, tara called sam and for the first time, sam really answers. I would really like it if you wrote this because i love your writing...

“Pickup”

—————————————————————————

“You’d tell me, yeah?”

Sam rolled her eyes, playfully nudging Richie. He always worried too much about her. Sam was a big girl now. She could handle herself.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She sighed, digging it out.

“Yes. You don’t have to check on me all the time. I’m-” she paused, looking at the screen.

Unknown Caller

That’s weird. Nobody called her number anymore except Richie and a few others. She frowned and sent it to voicemail.

“- not breakable. Okay?” she said, bumping his shoulder affectionately.

He rolled his eyes back playfully. “This, I know,” he joked.

The grin on her face lasted maybe a minute, slipping away as she read the text on her screen.

Sam, it’s Tara— new phone. Give me a call ASAP.

Ignoring Richie’s mindless chatter, Sam got up, clicking on the number. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, her body breaking out in a cold sweat. Her little sister didn’t call her much anymore, for maybe a couple of years.

Once Sam left, Tara called every day at least five times. Sam put her little sister’s number on mute, waiting for Tara to get the message. After a month, Tara did, calling only once a week, then on holidays, and then no longer. By the time they were at a year of being separated, Sam could unmute her sister, knowing that Tara would leave her be.

But now, this was new. Her little sister was calling her once again five years later. If Sam had the math right, it had been 1,953 days since they last saw each other.

Why was Tara calling now? And why was it urgent?

After a few beats, Tara picked up, and her breathing strained on the phone. Sam frowned, wondering if Tara was having an asthma flare-up or if she was ill.

“Hello? Tara? Tara, can you hear me?” she frantically said, pushing Richie off her.

He got in her face, a puzzled look in his eyes. “Tara? Like your sister, Tara?” he mouthed.

She nodded and shoved him back. “Tara? Tara, answer me!”

Her little sister finally did, coughing a bit as she answered. The sound of beeping in the background made Sam’s stomach flip. Something was wrong.

“Sam. You answered,” her sister breathed out in wonder.

“Yeah, I did. What’s up? Why are you calling?”

Why are you calling now?

Tara dryly laughed, the sound not coming out genuinely. There was a rustling on the phone, and Tara hissed in what seemed to be a pain. Sam knew that hiss well- many nights of putting Dora bandaids on scraped knees and patching up bruised hands from abusive teenage kids. It was the sound Sam tried to forget, as it haunted her waking life and dreams.

“Tara. You have two seconds to tell me what’s happening before I hang up the phone and hunt you down. I’m not fucking around,” Sam said lowly, trying to control the tremor in her voice.

Her little sister chuckled again, her breathing ragged. “I’m hurt, Sam. I’m not going to die; well, they didn’t think I’d make it through surgery; but it looks better now. I just thought you’d wanna know,”.

If she didn’t have a nosy boyfriend behind her, Sam would have crumpled to her knees right then. Her little sister was on the phone - injured - and talking to her. It was almost too much.

Running a hand through her hair, Sam breathed out, trying to control her breathing. She pinched the bridge of her nose, walking quickly away from Richie, who followed her. She turned around, mouthed a quick fuck off, and continued.

“Okay. Hold on. Surgery? Hurt? What the fuck happened? Is Mom there with you? Are you okay?”

“Slow down, Sam—Mom’s in London on a business trip. I haven’t seen her in a week. Amber and the twins are here,” Tara softly said, coughing a bit.

Sucking in another breath, Sam waited for her sister to continue.

“Some asshole in a costume stabbed me—a lot. And snapped my leg. I don’t know who it was or how it happened, but I needed to tell someone,” she whispered.

Sam could hear rustling on the other end and barely caught the I’m here; you don’t need Sam, from what sounded like Amber. Her blood pressure rose. She never liked that girl. In fact, it was hate. That was all Sam felt for that miserable bitch.

It was all too much. This was too much. Sam was on the phone with the sister she abandoned, who was gravely wounded because Sam wasn’t there.

And in all fairness, Sam didn’t even know why Tara would call. She had let down her little sister too many times to count, and she would no doubt do it again if given the chance.

Trying to center herself, Sam squeezed her eyes shut, breathing deeply. Tara needed her to be a pillar of strength, not break down. Her little sister was the injured one, not Sam. She had to pull it together for her sister’s sake.

“Okay. Okay. You’re okay, yeah? What was the asshole wearing?”

Tara sighed on the other end, and her voice choked up. Her crying voice. Her little sister was crying. Sam could feel her heart breaking down piece by piece, and she tried to collect them for Tara’s sake.

“Not the point Sam. It was a fucking Ghostface costume, though. Are you coming or not?” her sister tried to say firmly, but her watery, choked-up voice said otherwise.

Ghostface costume. Sam knew well what that meant, but decided to spare her sister the anxiety. Tara needed her now, not her baggage.

Sam would figure this out on her own.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m on my way. Don’t worry. I’ll be there soon. I promise,” she soothed.

Tara hummed on the other end. “Okay. I’ll let everybody know you’re coming,”.

There was a pause, years of unsaid words hanging in the air between the sisters. After years of silence, it had built a dam between the two, finally breaking with this phone call. It felt… awful. It felt too real, and both sisters didn’t know what to do. There was too much to say and not enough at all.

Thankfully, Tara finally broke it.

“Sam?” she whispered her voice nasally.

Sam choked back her sob, trying to be stable for her sister’s sake. “Yes, Tara?”

“Thank you.”

Squeezing her eyes shut tighter, Sam bit her lip, trying to control herself. “Of course. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

“Okay,” her sister whispered and hung up the phone.

Breathing out, Sam pocketed her phone. Some sort of God must have been listening to Sam’s prayers, and now Tara was back, asking for Sam. This wasn’t a chance that she was going to piss away again.

Tara needed her. Sam would come.

[itsscromp]

I was wondering if I could ask for an insomniac Peter or miles, I don't mind which, with a reader who's a young kid that they saved? Maybe they're like that one kid from the comics who has a terminal illness and has all of the Spider-men memorabilia.

Have a good day!

Insomniac Spider-Men X reader

Oooh this is a fantastic idea anon, For this one, I'm gonna say I'M GONNA DO BOTH !!!!. so with that here is your request :D. Word count:701

Peter and Miles were Battling out Lizard who was wreaking havoc on the annual 4th of July parade, Running around and terrorizing citizens in the process.

"Pete this is looking bad !!" Miles worried

"Don't think like that, we can do this ok miles. I'll hold down lizard while you help the people" Peter spoke through the mask as he swung into action. Webbing onto lizards back as he tried to control his movements.

Meanwhile miles was getting everyone out safely, clearing paths from rubble left by Lizard.

"Everyone go go !!!" He called out to them as he motioned everyone to leave the site now.

But as people were leaving, Mile's Spider-sense set off, He then heard a piece of rubble falling down from the building as Peter was fighting the lizard. Under it was a kid. miles quickly leapt into action as he pushed the kid out and caught the rubble, saving them.

"Oh my go..."

"Go go, it's not safe..." Miles grunted as he placed the rubble down and urged you away from the site.

"Thank you.." You said to him before rushing to your parents.

"A little help please..." Peter called out as he was starting to lose control of lizard.

The day was saved once again as Peter and Miles managed to web Lizard onto the ground, restricting his movements.

"Nice work out there Spider-Man" Peter raised his fist for a fist bump.

"You too man" Miles happily fist bumped peter.

Throughout the day, Miles thought about the kid that he had saved, wondering if they was okay. Surely they would, His phone then buzzed with a request from the FNSM app that Ganke put together for him and Peter.

"Hey Pete I got a request that requires the both of us"

"Oh Yeah ??, What's the request ??"

"It seems someone by the name of Y/n L/n wants us to meet them in person"

"I got some time, come on let's go"

With that, Peter and Miles met up at the location and looked around for the person who made the request. Miles then felt a tap on his shoulder and looked over.

"Can I he... Oh wait, your that kid I saved right ??"

"Yes, My name is Y/n. I wanted to thank you both in person rather than wait to see you guys again." You chuckled

"Hey, It's no trouble y/n, Whenever you need help. You can always request through the app." Peter gently ruffled your hair.

It was then Miles noticed your shirt and smiled under the mask.

"Looks like we have a fan"

You sheepishly rub your neck and nervously chuckled.

"Yeah... I'm a pretty big fan of you guys, You do so much for the city and ask for nothing in return. I think that's inspirational."

"We always fight for what's right in this city, This is our home too. So if anyone tries to mess with it or with people like you y/n, then they mess with us" Peter flexed his biceps and looked out in pride. Making you and miles chuckle.

"He's a bit of a showboat sometimes" Miles whispered to you.

"Hehe, thank you guys really." You then brought them in for a group hug, It was moments like these that made Peter and Miles appreciate being Spider-Man, Seeing the smiles on people's faces and seeing how much they appreciate their help. Keeps them pushing to continue fighting for this city.

"Before you guys go, can I get a quick photo ??"

"Of course" Miles said as you pulled out your phone and then took a selfie with the two, having the biggest smile on your face.

"Thank you guys so much for today, and for everyday"

Hearing what you say makes Peter and Miles smile brightly. Hearing the words of affirmation means the absolute world to them.

"Always y/n, remember if you need help or just want to meet. make a request through the app ok champ ??" Peter said as he then swung off waving goodbye at you.

"See you around y/n" Miles then joined peter.

Seeing them swing away, off to save the city again. Made you smile brightly, they were just amazing people.

taglist: @callofdudes

[mybluelonglegs]

2d x reader mini story

(backstage y/n is a beginning singer)

i closed my eyes finished singing my lyrics and heard the crowd scream. i smiled in response

" Thank you so much guys!, ill be right back but with the time ill be gone a wonderful group called the.." i said looking at my hand which had the name of the band. " the GORILLAZ" i said yelling the bands name, i heard the crowd scream in response while i started walking off the stage until... "o-" i said closing my eyes feeling my body fall from the impact that hit me, i felt someone's arm wrap around my waist and said "oh im sorry love, i didn't see you their" he said laughing softly and nervously " you, okay?" i quickly opened my eyes "oh ya sorry, i wasn't looking where i was going"i said quickly getting up off of him" oh go,go your gonna miss your que" i said running backstage "bu-"i heard him say before i ran far enough backstage. ( what the fuck was that) i thought to myself, i shrugged it off and started getting ready for my next song after them which was about in 20 or so, so i had time to change into a new outfit " hmm what should i wear?" i said looking at my closet. "oh perfect" i said heading to the bathroom in my changing room i changed and walked infront of my body lengthen mirror

y/ns hair

y/ns shirt

y/ns pants

y/ns shoes

" okay i think this will fit the song good" i said shrugging and walking to my makeup desk and starting my makeup

" that was a weird interaction, never had that happen before" i said thinking about the situation while doing my makeup

" okay and done" i said smiling at my art work

y/ns makeup

jewelry

"okay i really went off with this look" i said looking into the mirror when my ear bud buzzed my managers voice coming from it

" okay y/n its time to get into place"

i pushed a button " you got it mom" i said jokingly

i heard my manager laugh in response " come on if we go at this speed you'll miss it"

"okay,okay im going mom" i said laughing and walking out my changing room

i slowly made it to the side of the stage watching the man that caught me from falling singing i looked at him confused and buzzed my earbud " hey who's the guy that singing?" i waited for her to answer

" thats the lead singing of the gorillaz" i heard her voice

" really? i thought the band would be older than that how old is he anyway?" i said buzzing my ear bud

"um let me think by the way hes acting and how he looks i would say maybe like 24 or 5 why?" my manager asked confused

" just curious i guess i mean the name just sounds like they would be older" i said crossing my arms and listening to the song he was singing

( he was singing 5/4) the girls were going crazy for him and he was eating it up winking and kissing their hands i rolled my eyes waiting for my turn

but when i was about to turn, i was someone in the corner of my eyes so i looked back and he was Infront of me.. he pulled the mic away listening to the tempo " sing with me" he said putting his hand out

i grabbed my mic and walked out with him the crowd went wild screaming our names i laughed in response. he continued to sing his bands song

" she turned my dad on~" he sang winking at me

i laughed in response and looked back at the crowd walking over to the other side of the stage and started humming to the tempo

"she turned my dad on~" i sang looking at him and started moving my body ( hips) to the beat

( i noticed a light tint of blush on his face while he sang making me laugh softly)

"dad on, dad on" a little girl sang playing the guitar

i turned and smiled

" she made me kill myself come on~" he sang as the song slowly ended looking at me

the crowed cheered us on and we walked to each other and bowed. i turned to him " your really good" i said smiling

"thx love you to" i said winking at me

" thanks so whos in your band we might have to chat" i said winking back

" well then we'll meet you after the show" he said winking and walking off the stage with his band

i looked at the crowd and waited for my song

~skipping my song hermit the frog~

"we broke our glass ballon let go of my glass ballon" i said singing the lasts of the lyrics and bowed

" thank you, thank you i hope you enjoyed the show tonight and have a wonderful lasting night" i smiled and blow a kiss at the crowd and walked backstage still hearing them clapping

i sighed going to my dressing room and started humming music and taking off my outfit and putting on a black crop top on with some flannel pjs. i sighed again laying down on the couch when was a knock at my door.

( hey guys if you would like a part two pls like or give me some ideas pls)

[sukisook]

Slice of Life Drabble : Eijiro Kirishima

“No, no, no,” you mutter – just loud enough for the suited man at your left to eye you worriedly.

There’s coffee spilling between your fingers. Sticky, sugary, more-caramel-milk-than-actual-caffeine coffee.

You hiss as it slips under the cuff of your shirt, a thin trail trickling around the curve of your wrist.

The light flashes green and you soldier on, cheeks blazing at the trail of caramel macchiato you leave behind. Another man in a suit, talking obnoxiously loud into his brand new phone, knocks into your shoulder and sends a wave of blistering liquid down your front. He doesn’t notice, merely readjusts his grip on the briefcase at his side and continues shoving his way through the morning crowd.

Hot tears sting your eyes and you’re this close to throwing the cup on the ground and stomping back home. But even that doesn’t sound very appealing right now – just the thought of  a forty minute train ride with a sugary stain on your hand and shirt makes some of the tears spill over.

Your phone buzzes from its place at your hip, and you sniffle noisily as you raise it up, praying to any god that’ll listen that it’s not your boss.

“Um, hi?” Your voice is thick and wet and snotty.

You drop the half-full coffee cup into a bin.

It’s Eijiro.

“Baby! I’ve got to tell you about– Hold on, are you alright? You sound sick. Do you need me to bring you soup?” He sounds so sweet and so concerned and so warm that something in you just bursts and suddenly you’re sobbing in the middle of rush hour, surrounded by hundreds of salary men and women.

“Kiri,” you sniffle out.

“Baby what’s wrong?” You stare blankly down at your wrist, eyes misted over. “Nothing. Everything. Just a bad morning.”

“Baby,” he coos, just as worried.

You’re silent, squeezing your eyes shut as you shuffle into the shade of a building and out of the way of the bustling crowd. The Mustufu streets are a sea of grey and black blazers that all blend into one convoluted mass in your bleary eyes.

“Where are you?”

You glance up, swiping at your cheek as you take in the jaunty yellow exterior of the building. “Outside the Honeybee Tea shop. I’m late for work.”

Your phone buzzes against your cheek. It’s a text from your boss.

ARE YOU SICK? DID THE TRAIN CRASH? IS THERE A VILLAIN CRISIS I HAVEN’T HEARD OF YET? 

You stifle a sob in the palm of your hand and slump back against the wall. Flecks of peeling amber paint cling to the back of your coat and embed themselves beneath your clawing nails.

“Don’t move.”

“Okay,” you whisper as the line clicks off.

Your arm drops limply to your side and you stare down at the scuffed tips of your shoes. They’re too tight around the heels and you can already feel a hot blister forming from your run to the train (which you still missed, of course). The ache of it isn’t that bad, you suppose, but it just adds to how unbearably uncomfortable you are right now.

You sag further into the wall.

There’s a shriek, one that has you clutching your phone to your chest, but it’s followed by shouts of glee and laughter.

“Red Riot! Red Riot! Can you sign my…um…shit I don’t have anything on me, can you sign my arm?”

Your gaze latches onto the scarlet spikes of hair easily. Eijiro towers over everyone around him, a hulk of rippling, well-trained muscle and a splash of colour against the monotonous grey of suits. As soon as your eyes meet he’s pushing through the crowd with practised grace, caging you in against the wall and blocking out the rest of the world with ease.

He’s always been handsome in his hero costume, and it’s made all the more apparent by your lack of recent contact.

A series of ill-timed patrols and late nights for you at the office had thrown a spanner into your usual routine. Maybe that’s why everything has felt so off recently. Maybe that’s why today feels so much worse than usual.

You’ve missed him.

Terribly.

Judging by the bone-crushing grip he has on your hips you’d say he’s felt the same.

“Oh baby. What happened here?”

Your bottom lip wobbles, lashes growing heavy as tears bead in your eyes once more.

You’re quickly pulled into his chest, nose smushed against hard pecs, no doubt leaving sticky smears of snot in your wake. You don’t have it in you to feel embarrassed.

“I have a spare shirt at the agency you can borrow, and there’s a coffee shop on the way – can you ask to work remotely today? You have your laptop on you right?”

You sniffle, rubbing a tear off on his sternum. “Yeah. I guess.”

“Let’s get you comfortable baby.”

A/N: I spilt my coffee this morning. Can you tell?

[sammyjhand]

Little Black Cat

Written for @wolfstarmicrofic August 8 

Remus Lupin has terrible luck. 

The bad luck began the moment he was born. The birth was too much for his mother, and it made her weak, ill, frail. Remus was born, and Hope Lupin passed in an instant. 

It continued as he grew, and struck hard when he was walking home from school at seven years old. His neighbors forgot to close their back gate, and the dog got loose. It attacked poor Remus Lupin, and he was to be marred for life. A large gash across his face, and three incredible swipes across the chest. Remus Lupin carries those scars with him to this day. 

When Remus was sixteen, he came out to his father. When he arrived home from school the following evening, his father was gone. He never came back. 

Remus is no stranger to bad luck, misfortune, whatever it is you want to call it. He’s used to it. He expects it. 

So when he’s walking down the streets of London late one evening after finishing a lecture at the local university, and a little black cat runs across his line of sight, he tenses. He has bad enough luck without the aid of un-lucky charms. The cat sets him on edge. 

Remus’ phone buzzes in his pocket, and when he pulls it out to read the notification, his date has bailed. 

Fuck. They always bail. They always do.

Remus stares at his phone and continues to walk. He steps his foot off the curb, about to cross the narrow street, and before he actually comprehends what’s happened, he’s on his back, flailed across another body on the sidewalk. He gasps, blinks, takes in his surroundings in an out of body type of way.

“Are you alright?�� 

Remus tilts his head back to see the man-- a beautiful man-- he’s leaned back against and between the legs of. 

“Err, hello?! I said are you alright?” Beautiful Man presses.

“Er, yes, I’m sorry, yes, I’m alright,” Remus responds in a daze. 

He begins to get up, and Beautiful Man jumps to his feet to help Remus. 

“Don’t apologize! You almost died!” The man is holding Remus by the shoulders, which is quite funny because Remus is a full head taller than Beautiful Man, but it’s making his heart beat funny nonetheless. 

“I’m alright,” Remus insists stronger this time. “Thank you. Thank you!” He blurts, realizing the severity of the situation. He hadn’t looked as he tried to cross. A car flew by, and if it weren’t for the beautiful stranger, he truly might have died.

“You’re so lucky I turned the corner when I did! God, that was horrifying!”

“I don’t know how I can thank you enough. You saved my life...” 

“Sirius.” 

“Sirius. You saved my life,” Remus breathes, finally fully observing the man in front of him, taking in the spooked expression on Sirius’ face. His grey eyes are sharp, wide, and his cheeks are flushed. His hair is wild. He looks like he’s just had a rough shag, he thinks inappropriately.

“I’m just glad I was here at the right time...”

“Remus.”

“Remus. I’m just glad I was here.” 

When Remus and Sirius run into each other a week later in the market, reaching for the same cucumber, Remus remembers the cat. And when Sirius asks boldly for Remus’ mobile number, he thanks his lucky stars. Because maybe all he needed was a little black cat to change his luck around. 

[thistransient]

- So I went to the Taiwanese trial class with my friend. It was taught by a little old lady who was nice enough but gave me some mild flashbacks to those harrowing weeks with the Mandarin teacher of a similar age. Most of the session was her explaining the history of 台語 in Taiwan, with a side of trying to force the 8 tones and counting from 1 to 10 upon us via rote memorization. I felt a bit frustrated and not entirely thrilled, my friend was miffed that the school hadn’t explained the price they quoted was for the trial class only. We’ve decided to give it a pass and try a different school, although our scheduled trial there is on hold on account of the teacher falling ill. In the meantime my friend has begun to contemplate taking group Japanese class instead (as his partner and her kid are Japanese), which is much more widely available. I am tempted. Do I need to start half-assedly learning yet another language? Probably not. Do I want to divert my energy from Mandarin to whole-assedly learn Japanese? Also not really. Is there a high chance of following through nonetheless? At least I’m self-aware about it...

- Job applications here largely require a photo, and I need a haircut but I’m afraid to go back to the place I went in August for the big chop. The guy started cutting it while wet, then broke out the blow-dryer and kept snipping til he was satisfied, but because my hair is curly and I do not own styling product more complicated than a comb, it reverted immediately to a vague dandelion shape and took several months to actually resemble the reference photo I’d provided. The thought keeps crossing my mind to simply shave my head entirely. I had it buzzed to a 3 some ten years ago after a dye-job gone wrong and did not enjoy my appearance. Of course I look different now, and hair grows back, but the struggle between wanting the catharsis and radical change (not to mention less mess in the shower drain strainer) of a head-shave, and fearing the hassle of growing it all back out if I do truly detest it is raging inside of me.

- After coming back from Korea I may have spent one whole day languishing in bed and eating spoonfuls of peanut butter as a meal before slowly reconvening daily activities. I have been meeting some friends and going out, but I end up needing one day of hermit-like recovery for every outdoor social endeavour. I have yet to implement any kind of proper schedule (beyond “try to eat three meals and go outside at least once”), leading my friends to recommend I start by contemplating my greater, overarching goals for life. Every few years I come round to the notion of attempting a STEM degree (which would require redoing undergrad, but, as they say, “the time will pass anyways”). I think it would be really engaging to do a program taught in Chinese, and possibly motivate me to overcome my deficiencies in the math department, which is what always puts me off the whole scheme. Scientific terms are so much simpler in Mandarin because they’re extremely 顧名思義 (just as the name implies); English really shot itself in the foot with all the Greek and Latin. I don’t even need to check the dictionary to figure out 光合 means ‘photosynthesis’... Will I actually follow through with this, and live out my days happily studying trees and avoiding small talk with humans, or will I continue to trundle through life intermittently trying to teach English between bouts of autistic burnout? When I put it that way, the answer seems obvious, but this is without factoring in all the bugs that live in trees... Also wasn’t I trying to convince myself to go to grad school for what, translation? linguistics? library science? something? just a few months ago? Maybe overarching life goals are a red herring at present, and I should just get a job first and then see what kind of things I’m interested in when I have consistent disposable income to pursue them at length.

- I am, at the ripe old age of my mid-30s (I’m rounding up since my birthday is next month- again, so soon??) being forced to reconsider what it means to like someone. Perhaps on account of being socially inept and spending all of my formative years in Catholic school, I took for granted that it was that painful, infatuated pining one feels for attractive strangers or casual acquaintances who generally don’t reciprocate. In the past couple years I began to experience the strange phenomenon of having great affection for friends I’d gotten to know slowly and who became increasingly physically appealing as time wore on, but I wrote this off as Mystery Emotion X because it lacked that frantic obsession I was accustomed to. Now I suspect this may simply be a healthy manifestation of romantic attraction. I’ve often struggled with exactly what identity label the intersection of my gender, attraction pattern, and neurodivergency might land me under. I think the plot is thickening... but I will put off pursuing further clarity by going to the BDSM bar instead.

[sailorshadzter]

not sure what this is yet.

maybe if you guys want more, ill provide more. i have a multi chapter fic of the same story line that i could always revisit, i suppose. just felt like writing something with the au that jon was raised by his father in king's landing. arranged marriages have ALWAYS been my jam, especially in my role playing days lol.

anyways

let me know if you guys want more. :)

King’s Landing is buzzing with laughter and golden light.  

It was not every day that the heir was married and it seemed as if every person in the kingdom was there to celebrate the event. All of the Red Keep was decked out in cloth of gold and those who attended the ball were dazzling in their best dress. Lords and ladies alike arrived in sparkling silver silk, in expensive damask, handcrafted lace... There was not a single person there who had not dressed for the event. 

Except for maybe the prince himself.  

Young Aegon Targaryen, who preferred to go by Jon, as his mother once called him, was dressed head to toe in black fabric, looking far more ready for a funeral than wedding feast. Truth was, getting married was the last thing upon his agenda, but he will do as his duty asks. He knows it is his place as the heir to the throne to wed a princess of the realm and have heirs of his own- he only wishes, silly as it might have been, to find love on his own. He would still yet father children for the dynasty, but on his own time, with a woman of his own choosing.  

But, choosing your own love was not part of the deal when you were a prince, certainly not a prince such as himself. And so, that was how he found himself to be marrying a Northern bride, the eldest daughter of the Warden of the North. He’s resolved himself against his fate and he supposes the girl is pretty enough, with a dimpled smile and clear blue eyes- he only hopes they might find real happiness together, someday, someway. 

A hush falls over the crowd and Jon looks up from where he stands beside his father’s empty throne as the double doors have opened wide. There she was, dressed in gold and white silk, on his father’s arm, gliding into the great hall with a radiant smile on her face. Truth was, if he was going on looks alone, Jon has never seen a more beautiful girl in all of his life. With her shining red hair twisted up into braids and the cut of the gown she wears on her lithe frame, she is a stunning sight. Almost too beautiful to be real, truthfully. 

As they approach, his father steps away and she sweeps him the most beautiful and well-practiced of curtsies. “Well son, greet your bride-to-be,” his father says the moment he’s settled onto his throne, gesturing for Jon to step forward, which he does. The young woman offers him a curtsy of his own, rising up to smile for him in a way she’d not smiled for his father. “Go on, Aegon,” his father murmurs from behind, insisting, and so Jon sighs, stepping all the way forward.  

“Hello, my lady,” he says, all princely manners as he reaches for her hand, drawing it to his lips for a swift kiss. “You look enchanting.” This is not a lie and it does the trick, for behind him his father smiles happily. The wedding would go forward and the realm would continue on in peace, even at his son’s expense.  

Jon puts on a brave face and offers his lady his arm, to take her to the center of the court. This was his life and he might as well get used to it.  

[ x x x ] 

“He hates me,” she moans as she paces her chamber. 

“My lady, I doubt he hates you,” Shae, her ever faithful attendant, replies as she guides her into a chair, all so she might take the pins from her hair, at the very least. They’ve not been together all that long, but she’s grown quite attached to her young queen-to-be. “No one could hate you.” She’s biased, it’s true, but her lady was so sweet and lovely, she doubts anyone could ever hate her. “Come, come, let me ready you for bed,” she encourages and finally her lady heaves a sigh, but nods.  

“He’s only marrying me because he must,” she goes on to complain as the first pin comes out. “Don’t say it- I know I am doing the very same, but he could at least look the part,” she complains as she leans back in the chair. It’s not like she was exactly happy about this marriage either; all she’s ever wanted was to find a man who loved her for her, not for her name, not for her title, and not for any agenda. But she was a dutiful daughter, one who knows her place, and so she’s here in King’s Landing to marry the man who would one day be King of them all. “He looked absolutely miserable the entire time he was in my company.”  

Shae laughs at her lady’s expense; she’s been in King’s Landing long enough to know that was simply the prince. “It is not you, my lady. I’m certain he feels the same way that you do.” Sansa rolls her eyes, but another sigh escapes her rosy lips. “Give it time, I’m sure you will be fast friends. Then love will come easily.”  

Sansa can only hope so.  

[ x x x ] 

When morning comes, she rises just before the morning call, as she always does.  

Shae is already there with a plate of buttered bread and fresh fruit to break her fast; while she eats, her handmaiden twists her hair into braids and pins it into place, before draping a golden netting over the mass, securing it too with pins. Her gown for the day was of sage green, with draping sleeves and a neckline that would certainly widen eyes, if she’d worn it back home. But here in the South, the ladies seemed to dare to go deeper, lower, tighter, with every gown that they wore. Said neckline was trimmed with the same gold she wore in her hair and both the sleeves and hem of the skirt were embroidered with golden flowers. “I might find a moment to myself in the gardens, before the day begins,” she tells Shae, who nods, following after her when she steps from the room. 

The castle in quiet so early in the morning and for that she is thankful. 

When she’s stepped out into the early morning sunlight, she sighs a breath of relief; of all places she loves to be there in King’s Landing, it was here in the gardens. With their beautiful lush greenery and fragrant flowers of all kinds, she loves to walk their quiet paths, taking solitary moments on the stone benches tucked just out of sight, out of mind.  

But as she approaches her favorite one that morning, she sees she is not alone.  

Jon looks up at the approaching footsteps, surprised to find his bride-to-be coming closer. “My lady,” he greets, rising up from the bench he sits upon, sweeping her a bow as she dips him a curtsy. He can’t help but to notice the swell of her breasts beneath her gown’s neckline, can’t help but to realize just how lovely that color green looked against her skin. “You are an early riser,” he observes, awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to another. An appropriate distance behind them, Shae covers her mouth to hide her laughter. “I don’t usually meet anyone at this hour of the day.”  

She smiles as he gestures for her to sit on the bench, somewhat surprised when he sits at her side, their shoulders just barely brushing. “I enjoy the early mornings,” she admits as she folds her hands into her lap, careful to keep her gaze low. “At home, I enjoyed a quiet hour in Winterfell’s gardens every morning.” There it came again, the pang of longing in her chest, the sense of homesickness that had yet to leave her. 

He notices; quiet as he might have been, he was good at noticing. He was good at reading the faces of those around him. “I imagine the winter roses must be beautiful.” He says after a moment, to which her face lights up, her rosy lips curving with a smile that he realizes must be her true one- not a mask for a court of people she must impress. “I’ve never seen them, but my father always said they were my mother’s favorite.”  

Ah, there it was.  

Their single connection, the Stark blood that ran through the both of them; he was her cousin, after all. “That’s what my father always says,” she nods, thinking of her father’s dark and somber face when he rarely spoke of the sister he’d lost. Lyanna Stark had died giving birth to the man who sat before her, barely nine months after his father had wed her. A war had broken out because of that marriage, but in the end, Rhaegar Targaryen had won. Sansa’s own father had barely made it out with his own life, for he’d been on the side of Robert Baratheon, but in the end, he’d sworn fealty to Rhaegar and out of the love he bore for Lyanna, dead or not, he’d welcomed him back into his role in Winterfell. Years later, Ned Stark had served both as his Hand and in any additional role he might have needed him in. “I have a younger sister, you know,” she speaks on, thinking of Arya now, her bratty little sister that she misses, despite once swearing she never would. “My father says she is Lyanna’s copy, born wild, untamed by man or society.” She smiles as she thinks of her sister, shooting arrows better than any of their brothers, of her coming home dripping with mud, a girl who’s not worn a gown since she was but three years old. “You look like her,” she goes on a moment later, blue eyes finding his stormy Stark colored ones. “Arya, I mean, so you must look like your mother, too.” Truth was, he looks more like her father than his own, proof of his Stark heritage.  

His eyes widen as he takes this in- of course, he’s always known this, for he looks nothing like his Targaryen father. But there was something different about hearing it from her. “Thank you,” he says, because it’s all that he can think to say. She opens her mouth, perhaps to say something more, but they both hear it- the morning call. It was time to go.  

He rises up first, offering her his hand to take, which she does, allowing him to help her onto her feet. “Thank you, your grace,” she speaks softly, hoping to hide the electric shock that’s rushed through her at the touch of his skin against her own.  

“We’re to be married, so call me Jon,” he encourages, still holding onto her hand.  

Ivory cheeks flush with color and she nods. “Until the morning meal... Jon...” She sweeps him a curtsy and then she’s gone, her handmaiden falling into step behind her as she goes. Only once does she turn back around, giving him one last glance before she’s gone. 

Jon sinks back onto the bench, his heart racing.  

Perhaps... Perhaps they might be friends yet.  

[myriad-ofmuses]

The day was finally winding down, and Lock was tired. She had one more appointment to attend to, then her only plan was to have a hearty dinner at the pub and try valiantly not to fall asleep at the bar before her friend closed up shop.

She'd probably get an earful from her girlfriend for avoiding her, but she honestly did not have the energy to field one of her tantrums for being too worn out to go out.

If she wasn't too finicky for 'greasy bar food', or for her to meet up with her still in her work clothes, then she'd have no problem calling, but she'd throw a hissy fit if she even suggested it.

Not tonight..

That was quickly becoming a mantra, and she knew that certainly wasn't a sign of a healthy relationship. She sighed, rubbing at the headache that she'd been fighting with all day, just waiting for Daffy to finish with the preliminary prep with the patient before paging her in.

Her phone buzzed, and she hesitantly slipped it from her pocket, partly worried that it was Tansy with another vent-y post-work text about supposed neglect, but thankfully it wasn't.

She couldn't help the smile that crossed her face when she read through her best friend's message, detailing all his daily adventures and wishing that her day was peaceful and boring in comparison. Along with the promise to meet up soon and properly catch up.

She was starting on her own reply when the page came, wincing and erasing what she'd written, just to type - "Thanks Mac. Miss you." and pocketing her phone in her coat.

She nabbed her clipboard on the way out of her office, and made her way to the far-most exam room, nodding at Daffy with a tired smile when she scurried off to gather her things, just as eager to end the night, and go home as she was.

Well, in her case.. home away from home, but close enough.

She pushed open the door to find her last patient of the day, a young human girl, was sitting politely on the exam bed, nary making a crinkle of the paper from her dainty sit, hands folded in her lap.

"Evenin' Skyler. Ya made this consultation appointment pretty late.. but glad we could still squeeze ya in. Ya said it was urgent. What's going on, hon?"

She watched the girl fidget nervously, lightly biting her lip and nervously tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, green eyes seeming reluctant to meet hers.

Lock waited as patiently as she could, setting the clipboard down and dropping into the seat facing the bed, worried that perhaps the girl's symptoms were coming back, and that was why she'd urgently made this appointment.

It was rare she accepted patients with chronic illnesses for treatment, as it was a dangerous slope before others started catching wind that magic could be used to treat things once believed incurable. Like Sky's Huntington's, as an example.

She'd made an exception because the girl was from the neighboring town, and the family had been sworn to silence for treatment to commence. Not to mention.. her best friend was sweet on her. There was no way she could turn a blind eye to that.

It was her hope that one day she could be more open about her abilities, but she was just one, overworked monster. And daily healing magic was finite, she had to save her energy for the ails of her town, not get used up trying to mend the endless suffering of humanity.

It broke her bleeding heart, but no one could solely shoulder that burden.

Finally the blonde raised her head, and with a wavering smile, began to speak.

"Actually.. Dr. Lock.. I was hoping we could speak, woman to woman. Not.. patient to physician. I'm.. physically fine, I promise."

Lock blinked in surprise, mouth quirking in confusion, but she nodded her head to encourage the other to continue, an acknowledgment that she was listening.

Skyler exhaled a shaky breath, eyes lowering to her folded hands, nervously picking at her cuticles.

"This is about Mac. I.. really like him. I want to, maybe.. introduce him to my parents? But I.. there's a problem.. and, well.. the problem is you."

Her voice was as soft as ever, but her green eyes had hardened a little as she stared down at her hands, Lock feeling as if she'd been struck with an arrow of ice, trying to comprehend what had just been stated.

"Me? What.. ah don't understand..?"

Skyler huffed, and raised her head again, her halo of golden hair whipping back from her face, eyes full of hurt, and a clear reluctance to have this confrontation in the first place.

"He talks about you all the time. It didn't used to bother me, but.. well, a woman's intuition is rarely wrong, you know? If this is going to work, my parents have to see that he's fully committed to me. And I can't just.. tell him to stop talking about you. About your history.. I can't forbid him from seeing you.."

Tears had started to roll down the blonde's cheeks, that had warmed pink with embarrassment that the extent of her hurt was now plain to see.

Lock wanted to either curl up in her chair and disappear, or leave the room and the crying human far behind, but she could do neither with the bloom of pain and paralysis that froze her in place. Dread sending icicles through her soul. She knew why Sky had come, what was bound to be said next..

"It's not even just Mac! His whole family loves you.. while it's clear I'm just tolerated, at best! What can I do in the face of that? What.. place is there left for me to fill? You take up so much space, Lock.."

The woman sniffled and weakly shook her head, shakily slipping down off the table and reaching for her messenger bag, that she hooked over her shoulder.

"I came to ask -.. no, plead with you to cut ties with him. But I realize now how.. horrible it is for me to do that.. to even have gone this far, maybe.. I don't deserve him after all. I won't spoil your night any further, thank you.. for seeing me on such short notice, doctor."

The door opened and shut with a quiet finality, and Lock was left staring blankly at the place the other had vacated, the only sign of her presence being the wrinkled drape sheet on the bed.

Tears of her own had welled up and now trickled unnoticed down her cheekbones, soul hammering hard in her chest. Slowly, she pulled her phone from her pocket, a tinted teardrop blurring her friend's response to her earlier message, magnifying the blushy-happy face emoji at the end.

Despite what she felt, she would never..-

She brought her knees up to her chest in the chair in a dejected curl, vision still blurry with tears. With shaking fingers, she selected the option to block his number, numbly dropping her phone to the cold tile of the exam room, and burying her face in her knees to continue her quiet breakdown, even once the clinic's lights had automatically flickered off to leave her crying in the dark.

It was excruciating - like her soul had sprung a leak and all the negativity she'd kept bottled up was now threatening to drown her. Like trying to breathe around a leaden weight.

At least until the swell of turbulent emotion, and her own exhaustion soon triggered her condition to steal her consciousness away, breaths uneven and cheekbones stained with cold tears - all warmth having been leeched away in the gray.

[yanderemommabean]

I have not been able to stop thinking about Eddie and venom. Like let’s say you and Eddie were just friends before he got venom and maybe he had a bit of a small crush on you or something and then all of the sudden once he got venom you’re now confined to his appartement. He literally will not let you out of his sight. You have to shower? Eddie and venom will be there. At first just watching. Until Eddie literally cannot possibly control venom any longer. He just has to touch you. Something about venom and Eddie just trying to be really gentle and loving while stroking your hair or touching you in any possible heat while you are just terrified and sobbing.

“Just unlock the fucking door and let me go!” You hiss out, tears of fear filling up your eyes as Eddie just stands there. He looks like he’s fighting something, as if he’s about to vomit and then attack you full force, but all that happens is him telling you a very gravely “No”.

It sounded like two voices speaking, chills spiked down your spine seeing the struggle on the mans face at just a simple syllable. “Eddie please!” You cry out “You’re scaring me!”.

Before you could scream again, a black mass shoots forward and wraps around you, pulling you down and dragging you across the floor until you were back in front of the man, who’s eyes were apologetic as they met your own.

“We have to protect you. Provide for you. You aren’t safe out there, and keeping you here is the best option” Eddie spoke softly, watching as the slimy substance just caressed your face and seemed to vibrate in response. You were having a panic attack, everything felt like too much- This can’t be happening!

“Hush, hush” a deep voice cooed, causing your heart to stop in your throat. The substance writhed until a face appeared, grinning at you as it continues to rub and slide all over you “You have nothing to be scared of. I only eat bad guys, and you look more appetizing as a mate than as a meal”.

Eddie was scolding the alien creature, but it was all buzzed out and blending into the static as you tried to soak in the situation. Your brain couldn’t handle it, a talking slime-bath that wanted you as a mate, and Eddie was just going along with it?!

You faint, it couldn’t be helped. You slump back, into the firm grip of the creature who was placing the blame on Eddie for being too scary about the whole thing. “My fault?! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO’S AN ALIEN HERE!”

“Seems like a fine excuse to me. You’re the one who couldn’t just admit we wanted them as our own and now the consequences are ten times worse!”

“Oh bite me you asshole”

“I would, but that wouldn’t be beneficial for the three of us. However, just know, your liver still looks really delicious”

Eddie just throws his arms up and sighs, knowing the two didn’t really have any ill feelings towards the other. “C’mon we need to get them in bed, make sure they’re ok. We’ll discuss this after making sure they’re alive and not about to have a heart attack”.

Venom just purred happily and nodded, beginning to carry you to the bedroom. “Perhaps we can discuss the nest I mentioned. It seems we three will be sharing the main room anyway”

-Mommabean (COMMENT Or SOMETHING PLEASE I LOVE YALLS TAGS AND REACTIONS!!!!)

[nctsworld]

two nights, one you

✩‌ jaemin ‌x‌ ‌reader‌ ‌|‌ fuckboy!jaemin | strangers (who f*ck) to (brief) enemies to lovers | ‌10.9k 

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ a last-minute one night stand gone awry is extended into two nights when you’re snowed in at the cute (but rude) stranger’s apartment on christmas eve. [loosely based on the movie, two night stand] // part of the x-mas in ncity collection  GENRES ⇾ crack | smut | fluff  WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ‌lots of bickering and dialogue, smut, oral s*x (f and m receiving), fingering, mentions of alcohol/drinking, swearing, bit of angst before the end, jaemin’s an asshole... or is he? RATING‌ ‌⇾‌ explicit TAGLIST ⇾‌ @infnteen​ 

AUTHOR’S NOTE ⇾ it’s late (and long fsldkm), srysry but here it is! i hope the humour comes out in this and look away if falls flat zzz fingers crossed that i can finish the last two installments for this collection asap! 

⇾ gif created by me, please don’t repost or share without credit!

Maybe it’s because it’s the evening of Christmas Eve Eve and you’re feeling more lonely than usual.

Maybe it’s due to the two glasses of wine you guzzled down in the span of fifteen minutes that get you buzzed.

Maybe it’s your prominent six-month dry spell and you’re in desperate need for some much needed rain in your drought.    

Or maybe it’s just pure impulsiveness.

Regardless of the reasons, you’re aiming to get laid tonight.  

It’s 9:45pm as you make the rounds on Tinder. You’ve used it in the past, searching for a relationship in vain, but haven’t used it much since you broke up with your last partner. Bringing the app alive again, you’re already bombarded by distasteful messages, off-putting one-liners and jokes, and swiping left more than you’d like.

You haven’t had a one-night stand before, but isn’t there anyone on here that is just a little bit attractive, nearby where you are, around your age, and is somewhat chivalrous about the topic besides saying DTF? Maybe you need to lower your standards if you want to get dicked down tonight.

But then, you land on him.

One Na Jaemin, 20 years old, and only four miles away from you.

Scrolling through his profile pictures and Instagram feed, you assume that he’s into photography, is on the athletic side from the various hobbies he partakes in, and he must be at least half-aware of his beauty because there’s the occasional pic that shows off his lean, toned arms, which, if you can be frank, is more flattering than the shirtless ones you constantly see. Oh, and he attends the same university as you.

The cherry on top? His bio is simple and upfront:

“Not up for anything serious, but always down for a good time ;)”

You swipe right without hesitation.

“It’s a Match!” flashes instantly at you. Your mouth swings open in disbelief.  

Usually, you’d wait for your matches to message you and play hard-to-get, but not tonight. Tonight, you’re initiating and leading all the conversations, completely driven by your thirst.  

Messaging Jaemin is a breeze. He types with more than half a brain, and he flirts, but it isn’t overwhelming or repulsive. Segueing the current topic, you drag your bottom lip upward as you send the following message:  

so, hypothetically... if one were to have good time with you would tonight work?

Not even twenty seconds later and he replies with:

-wow, dont you go straight to the point -im impressed -but yeah -tonight works ;)

He’s quick to send his address.

-let me know when ur here and ill come get you out front!

Smacking your lips together, you squeal to yourself in the comfort of your home, excited to meet with him, but then a thought hangs over you—this feels a little too good to be true. Horrible scenarios run through your head, so your fingers dash across your phone’s keyboard:

tbh i haven’t really done this b4 so im kinda new to this is it ok if we video call or smth? gotta make sure you’re real and not a serial killer i’m sure you understand 😛

-for sure for sure -totally get it -ive had my fair share of fake girls and serial killers so i feel u 😛

Grateful for his consideration, you rush to rearrange your hair after you send him a Zoom link, hoping you look decent enough to not have him back off from his initial offer. He appears in the video call on his phone with the front-facing camera on a few seconds after you connect.

“Hi,” you chirp.

A corner of his mouth lifts. “Hey.”  

Okay, he’s definitely cuter in real-time than in his pictures.  

“You know, I’m not gonna lie, but I lowkey expected to see a dick or something,” you joke in an attempt to dispel your nervousness.  

“Same,” he chuckles, running a hand through his black hair.

Oh God, he’s not just cute—he’s devastatingly gorgeous.

“So, this is my place...”

Jaemin moves around with his apartment in the background, revealing his living room first. Envy prods you as you note the brick walls, high ceiling windows, and well-appointed furnishings.

Recalling his address, you ask, “How’d you get a place in the heart of the city?”

“Lucked out,” he shrugs. His phone shakes a bit as he’s still moving. “My friend slash roommate—who is at his girlfriend’s place tonight, so we have the place all to ourselves—his parents own the condo and they gave me a friend discount on the rent.”

He finally stands in one place and turns the light on to reveal a room. “And this is my bedroom.”

Nothing out of the ordinary. A desk table with a gaming set-up, in tow with a gamer chair, and a decently-sized bed beside a nightstand.

“Oh, and here’s my closet.” Jaemin’s on the move again as he opens his closet doors. “Just to make sure you don’t think I hide the skins of my past one-nighters in here.”

A bubbly laugh rises from you. “Okay, I didn’t think of that before, but now you’ve planted the seed in my head. Maybe you hide them in the other rooms.”

“Nah, my roommate would kill me if I did.”

Both of you laugh in unison, and you bob your head with puffed cheeks.  

“Okay, it all seems very promising. I’m going to get ready and I’ll guess I’ll see you in a bit, Jaemin.”

“Sounds good,” Jaemin nods, then winks. Although you’re sitting down, he’s still able to get you weak in the knees. “See you soon.”

You end the call and rush to bundle up for the snow starting to come down outside. A twenty-minute train ride later, you’re at the front door of a rustic, industrial apartment complex. After informing Jaemin you’re outside, you glance up at the snowflakes falling from the dark pink-grey sky, anticipating for what comes next.

Sex with a hot guy, what can go wrong?  

So, you must’ve jinxed it because the sex is...  

Unsatisfying. Finished faster than you’d like it to be. Sadly, overall disappointing. If you had to rate it, three out of five stars, at best.

But hey, he came, and you sort of did, and it wasn’t the worst sex you’ve ever had. It half-quenched your dry spell.

And enough happened that it tired you out, leaving you passed out in the handsome stranger’s bed until morning.

In the morning, your eyes slowly flicker, unused to the foreign, sweet scent engulfing you in your bed. Correction: Jaemin’s bed.

Your eyes flicker faster as you glance through the almost wall-sized window. The snow hasn’t let up from last night. On the contrary, it seems like it’s snowing non-stop. You groan at the thought of going home in this weather.

The bed is without Jaemin’s presence as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. 10:36AM and a few notifications greet you. You rub your eyes and start combing through them, rising upward to sit up on the bed.

“Morning. You’re finally up.”

Peering up from your device, Jaemin’s standing by the door with folded arms. His plain sweater and sweatpants match the colour of his hair. The dazzling smile he gives is so contagious, you’re not even conscious of catching one too.  

“Out you go.”

You blink.

Once, twice, and then you tilt your head as you stare blankly at him, uncertain if you heard him correctly.

After a few moments, because you’re not moving an inch, his smile dissipates and he cocks an eyebrow in expectancy. A serious expression rolls over his face.  

Suddenly, Jaemin strolls to the side of the bed and hitches his thumb towards the door.

You definitely heard him right.

And he’s dead-serious.

You replay the video call from last night, dissecting how you thought he was nice and funny and—

Realization dawns on you.

Why would you expect anything more from a two-faced fuck boy?

Still awestruck by the situation, you’re still solid as a statue, so Jaemin takes matters into his own hands and grasps you by your elbow, casually dragging you from his bed like he’s taking out the trash.  

“What the fuck?!” you screech.

“C’mon, let’s go. Out out.”

“My clothes, though!” you protest in the middle of the hallway. He sighs in frustration, scurries to the bedroom, and returns with a small pile in his arms, then continues to drag you to the front door.  

“Are you always this pleasant with your guests the morning after?” you rage, putting on the rest of your clothes by the door. “You don’t even have the decency to offer me tea or coffee?”

“This was a one-night stand, not a bed and breakfast, sunshine,” he says as he watches you put your shoes on. He’s folding his arms again and leaning against the wall, his attitude dripping with smug. If he wasn’t a stranger, you’d punch it off his face. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were new to this, huh?”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means you’re a borderline virgin who needs to toodle-loo, get going and gone because you’re overstaying your welcome as we speak.”

Finishing putting on your coat, you’re fuming as your jaw hangs at the personal jab over your skills in bed. Jaemin swings the door open and shoves you through it.

“But I’ll admit, it was still nice having sex with you!” he chimes with a sickening grin and a hand on the door.  

“Aw, thanks asshole, wish I could say the same,” you sarcastically reply, resting a palm upon your chest.  

He scoffs. “From what I heard last night, I think I can confidently say that you had a great time.”

Flashbacks replay in your mind of your screaming fest from underneath him. Little did Jaemin actually know—

“You know, for someone who I assume has many one-night stands,” you spit with squinted eyes. “I’m surprised you can’t tell when girls fake it.”

You must’ve hit a sore spot because he grinds his teeth and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

Oh yeah, you’re definitely the winner in this fight.

“Okay, you know what, Merry Christmas and fuck you. Have a great life!”

“Fuck you, dickface. Wishing you a miserable Christmas!”

With a bitter smile, you flip him off as he slams the door in your face.

Carrying a basket filled with dirty clothes, Jaemin’s on the way down to the laundry room in the basement of his apartment with his shoulder scrunched up, squeezing his phone to his ear.

“Bro, she had the audacity to say that I didn’t make her come when she was screaming my God damn ear off—”

As he steps down the short flight of stairs and passes by the foyer area by the main entrance to the building, he notices you’re still here.

“Shit, uh, Jeno,” he mumbles. “I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He stuffs his phone into the pocket of his sweats and calls out to you as he strides closer. “Are you resorting to stalking me by my front door now?”

With crossed arms, you peer over your shoulder, eyes full of bitterness.

“Like I wanna be anywhere near you right now,” you grumble. You jerk your head towards the thick, wooden door. “It’s jammed from the snow.”

The laundry carrier shakes his head and places the basket onto the floor. “A little snow never hurt anyone. You’re probably just too weak.”

Stepping aside and holding out an arm, you signal for him to give it a try.

Jaemin twists the handle and, lo and behold, it doesn’t open. His forehead crinkles as he tries again and again, using more force each time.

Glancing through one of the partially frosted windows adjacent to the sides of the door, he notices the snow has piled enormously high, almost to the height of his chest.

“Well, shit.”  

Reluctantly, Jaemin brings you back to his apartment. You’re technically his guest and if he left you in the foyer to freeze, trouble would surely come his way, whether it be in the form of his landlords (also known as his roommate’s parents) or the police.

Without a word, he settles a spoon in a bowl, a carton of milk, and a box of cereal onto the small kitchen table.

At first, you stare at it venomously in rejection, thinking you can easily last a day without any hand-outs from this son of a bitch, but your stomach roars ferociously three seconds later.

As you chew across from him, you enjoy the company of your phone over him, while he does the same but with a cup of coffee in hand.

After finishing your food, you adamantly place your phone down and lean back into the chair, boring holes into his head.

“Why are you such an asshole?” you seethe observantly.

“Why are you such a bitch?” he retorts, not pulling his gaze away from his phone.

“Because you started it,” you say slowly, stating the obvious.

“No, you.”

You sigh defeatedly at his childish behaviour. The weather apps predict the snow will (hopefully) die down by tomorrow morning, thus you’re officially stuck with him for the next twenty-four hours or so. Your hands rake through your hair.

“Whether we like it or not, the snow isn’t going away until tomorrow. Merry Christmas Eve to us, I guess.”

He’s still glued to his phone. You exhale another sigh.

“Since we’re not getting out of this until then, can we just...” You soften your voice. “Start over?”

His eyes are still on the screen, but from the way his shoulders tense and how he stops scrolling, you know he’s considering your proposition.

“At least call a stalemate over this.” You drift your hand in the air, gesturing between you and him.

Blowing out air and shaking his head, he rests his phone onto the table.

“Fine.”

He crosses his arms, imitating you, and the two of you sit there, staring at each other in a long silence.  

One minute, to be exact.

You’re the one to break the silence game by running your hands over your face, letting out a hybrid of a groan and laugh.

“God, the fact that we had sex makes this kinda awkward, huh?”

Jaemin’s exterior melts slightly, letting out a snicker. He shrugs, “Then let’s just pretend that we didn’t have sex.”

“We can’t just pretend that we didn’t have sex,” you say, holding two upturned palms near your face.

“We did it, it’s done. I’ve seen your penis, you kicked me out, and you labelled me a prude—” You dart a finger towards him. “—which I am far from, by the way. All of those are pretty huge things.”

One of the corners of his mouth raises high. “Are you saying my penis is huge?”

“No, the implication of said penis is huge. Wipe that smirk off your face.”

He stretches an arm, holding an imaginary microphone to your face. “Do you deny that my penis is huge?”

Rolling your eyes, you swat his fist away. “What am I, on trial here?”

“Do you plead the fifth then?”

Annoyed, you roll your eyes again. Why do you get the feeling that you’re probably going to be doing this a lot more today? Another feeling tells you that if you don’t answer his question, he’ll probably pester you until you do.

You tilt your head side to side. “It’s... decently sized.”

“Bigger or smaller than average?”

“Perfect...” His eyes light up. “...ly average.” And a frown rolls over.

He squints his eyes accusingly at your sneer. “Are you lying like you did before about faking it?”

You scoff. “I wasn’t lying about faking it, and I’m not lying now about your average sized dick.”

Jaemin releases a disgruntled grumble and lifts his cup to his face. You notice he likes to take his coffee black and bitter, presumably like his heart.

“So, Miss I’m-Not-A-Prude-and-I’ve-Definitely-Had-Sex-Before.” His eyebrows perk up on the word definitely. “What’s your story? Why the last minute one-night stand?”

Shrugging your shoulders to your ears, you reply, “Haven’t had sex in a while.”

“When’s the last time you had sex?” he asks mid-sip.

“Half a year ago,” you respond nonchalantly, perching your chin into your palms.

Jaemin immediately chokes, almost spraying the coffee through his nose.

“Half a year?!” he gasps. It takes him a few hits to his chest to dispel the coughing. “Six months?!”

“Wow, you can count!” you exclaim in a condescending tone. You change the position of your hands so that your chin is now atop of the back of your curled fingers and tilt your head. “Can you also spell?”

“As a premed student, I can assure you that I am capable of doing both,” he says with a slight strain due to the coughing fit. The humble brag brings on another eye roll. Of course he’s a premed student with the attitude he wears.

“It’s just—” He clears his throat and swallows the last bit of coffee stuck in his windpipe. “—The last time I had a dry spell was for like, a month, tops.”

So the fuckboy gets laid way more on the daily than you expect. You’re torn between being envious over how much action he gets in comparison to you, or remorseful, since you’re now just one of the many notches on his bedpost.

No matter, sarcasm is always the best defence mechanism.

“Good for you, Jaemin. I’m sure you’re very proud of that.”

There’s an awkward beat. His head hangs for a moment while his thumbs stroke the sides of his cup. A strange pinch of guilt occurs. Did you overstep an unspoken line? But then he drags himself back to reality in a heartbeat.

Jaemin brings the cup to his mouth again, mumbling, “At least the sex on your part makes more sense now; you’re rusty as fuck.”

Completely aware of what he said, you trash your guilt entirely and narrow your eyes. “What did you just say?”

Following a long sip, he hums, “Mmm, nothing.” Soon after, he stands up with his cup.

“I’m gonna go game now. Feel free to watch Netflix on the TV and stay in the living room.”

As if you had anywhere else to go...  

He begins to walk towards his room as you mutter under your breath, “I’m not a dog.”

“Says the bitch,” he pipes up, taking you by surprise.  

“Thought we had a stalemate?!” you shout, leaning your head forward as you watch him entering his room.  

“Doesn’t mean we’re on peaceful terms!” he sing-shouts.

The flinging of the closed door echoes throughout the apartment.

Regret surges through you. You just had to choose a fuckboy fluent in assholery and end up incidentally being isolated with him during a snow storm on Christmas Eve.

You wonder if you can handle being around him for the next twenty-four hours without killing him first.

During the afternoon, you’re on the living room couch, playing a show as mostly background noise while you’re on your phone. At one point, your phone unsurprisingly begins to die and you tread over to Jaemin’s door to ask for a charger and if you can also take a shower. He’s still annoyed by your existence, but at least he hands you a charger and lets you know where the extra towels are.

Stepping into the living room with the towel in your hand as you dry your hair off, you peer out the large living room window and see nothing but white engulfing the streets and buildings as far as the eye can see.

You pray the snow will eventually stop as soon as possible so you can head back home.

By the middle of the afternoon, Jaemin emerges from his bedroom and shocks you by plopping down on the opposite end of the living room couch from where you’re sitting.

“Bored?” you ask, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p as he says it. His slings his arm around the top of the couch.

“Gotta keep an eye on you in case you do something.” Turning away from the screen, he faces you and motions circles with his hand. “You’ve got a little crazy in you, I can feel it.”

You quickly glance over at him, but try to refocus on the TV. “Need I remind you that you’re the crazy one, dragging me out of the apartment right as I woke up.”

That compels him to turn his whole body towards you. “Well, you’re the one who wanted a last-minute one-night stand.”

You match his stance. “As if I’m the first girl in your bed to stay in the morning?”

“Actually, yeah.” He aggressively tilts his head to one side. “Most girls leave before I even get up. The other percentage don’t fight me when I ask for them to go, so it looks like you’re the odd one out.”  

You press your lips together, refusing to admit that maybe he has a point, under the assumption that he’s telling the truth.

Jaemin twists his body back to the screen and adds, “I make it very clear on my profile that I don’t do morning afters, sweetheart.”

And you agree that his profile is clear about his intentions, but that doesn’t mean you can condone his shitty behaviour.

“Well, sorry that I expected just an ounce of respect instead of getting kicked to the curb after you stuck your dick in me,” you grumble, shifting back to the show and crossing your arms.

“Morning afters lead to attachments, and attachments lead to feelings, and feelings lead to relationships,” he says the string of words clinically, as if it’s a mantra that he lives by.

Your eyebrows knit together as you whip your head towards him once more, studying him.

“And what’s so wrong with that?”

Deliberately averting your gaze, Jaemin grates his tongue between his teeth, a slight tsk audibly heard, and his chin juts out. There’s definitely a story behind his ways. He huffs and changes the subject.  

“Seriously?” He holds a hand out. “You’re watching this trashy show?”

Squinting your eyes at him, you could probably interrogate him further, but you decide otherwise.  

“It may be trashy,” you concur, looking at the TV. “But it’s my trashy comfort show.”

Following an over-the-top acted out scene between the show’s main love interests, Jaemin shoots up from the couch.

“Yeah, no, I can’t handle this. Can we either put on something else or game or something?”

“Why don’t you go back to your room to game, Mr. I’m-Not-Bored?”

“Like I said, I gotta keep an eye on you,” he says while bending over in front of the TV, already setting up the Playstation. He tosses you a controller as he strides to his side of the couch again.

He mumbles to himself, “Need to make sure you don’t go crazy from the lack of human interaction.”

Either Jaemin is selfish and only looking out for himself, or he wants to make sure you’re not feeling lonely in a stranger’s home.

Likely the first reason, you deduce—because why would a guy like Jaemin care about a mere one-night stand?

Admittedly, you’re not the best at games, especially at fighting ones. You can comprehend the move lists, but you like to live by button smashing the controller and repeating moves over and over.  

So it’s hilarious when you beat Jaemin every round with your surprisingly fruitful technique.

“Okay, this is bullshit,” Jaemin complains, sticking his tongue out in irritation. His ass is currently being handed to him on a plate again since you’re almost done killing his character off. “You must be lying to me; you have to be a pro player or some shit.”

Jaemin’s health bar is dangerously low as your character jabs his with a sword. He winces out loud and you snicker.

“Why do you think I always lie about everything?! Dude, you have serious trust issues,” you joke before you steal the opportunity to slice his character. One more hit and he’s done for.

“I do not! I just—nooo!”

You rise to your feet and pump your arms in the air, turning in circles in joy over yet another win.

Sulking, Jaemin eyes your little dance from his end on the couch, but as he watches you more, a feeling balloons in his chest. Something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Finally coming down from your post-win high, you spot an emerging grin from the corner of your eye, making you pause.    

“What?” you eye him suspiciously.

Your suspicion pops the sensation in his chest and, like a fish out of water, his eyes widen and his grin melts away.

“Nothing, uhm.” He ruffles his eyebrows and palms the back of his neck, quickly facing the TV. “Let’s go one more round and then we can switch to another game—”

Suddenly, the TV and surrounding lights switch off. Both of you waver your eyes, anticipating for them to come back on, but they unfortunately don’t.  

Jaemin rushes over to the window. When he swivels his head towards you, his face darkens.

“Looks like it’s at least the whole block. The streetlights are out too.”

Without another word, he dashes to the linen closet and brings back several blankets. He calmly explains that there won’t be heat since it’s connected to the electricity, so it’d be best to keep warm with the extra layers.

Not wanting to scare you, he doesn’t add the fact that due to the huge windows in the apartment, more unnecessary cold air will come in, but you’re already cognizant of it from your own logic and since the remaining heat dissolves rapidly.

You groan and retreat into the massive blanket over your shoulders, turtling your head.

You can’t believe you’re going to fucking die in this asshole’s apartment on Christmas Eve.

On the ends of the couch in your makeshift blanket jackets, both of you attend to your phones for a while.

From what people and the news outlets are saying, it’s not just the block, but the whole city grid is out. You frantically text your friends, giving updates on how you are and half-jokingly telling them that you’re going to die with your dreadful one-night stand. Some time passes and Jaemin tosses his phone  off to one side.  

“Well, since there’s nothing else to do and we should probably conserve our phone batteries—” You glance up at him from your phone and pout. Slowly nodding in agreement, you toss it aside too. “—why don’t we play a game of ‘I’ll-Give-You-Pointers-on-How-to-be-Better-in-Bed’?”

A smile burgeons on his irritatingly handsome face and your eyes roll. At this point, you wonder if the reaction is conditioned into you. “It’ll be my early Christmas gift to you.”

“Wow, so thoughtful, how could I ever thank you?” You drag the blanket closer to your chest in false gratitude.

You think for a serious moment if you really want to go through with this. Hearing Jaemin run his mouth on you unwarranted is already painful, but to give him the go-ahead to do so? Especially criticizing your skills in bed?  

You blow out a sigh, noting the slightly visible cloud. You’re grateful Jaemin has thick, downy blankets.  

Well, if you’re going to die, may as well know what went wrong, right?

“Fine, but if we’re playing this game, we have to say everything honestly and take the criticism we get.” You point a stern finger. “No rebuttals, just acceptance.”

“Wait.” Jaemin crinkles his face in genuine confusion as his hand peeks out from his blanket.

“You have things to criticize about me in bed?”

Your lips tremble before you burst into laughter. Displeasure is on Jaemin’s tight-lipped face as you laugh for a while, almost keeling over in your blanket ball onto the hardwood floor. “How conceited are you, oh, my fucking God?”

He slices his hand through the air. “I’ve never had any complaints—”

“Because you’re too busy focusing on your own orgasm, you selfish dickwad,” you say as your laughter dies down.  

He sits in his snit for a few more moments until he gets over it.

“Fine, fine,” he huffs. Jaemin knows he’s not going to enjoy this, but he’s the one who suggested it. He can’t back out now. “Let’s just get this over with, you go first.”

With your blanket held by your chest, you hop off your end of the couch and shuffle over in front of him where he’s seated. Beaming, you begin.

“Let’s start with foreplay.” Jaemin’s eyes light up with confidence, thinking he’s at least decent with that. You crush his expression as your lips purse and you shake your head.

“Non-existent.”

“What do you mean?! I kissed you as you took off your clothes.”

You stick your free hand out from your blanket, extending your index finger.

“One: you only kissed my lips. You know, there are other parts of me to kiss, like, I don’t know, my neck, my arms, my shoulders.”

You extend another finger. “And, two: it’s weird to not help someone take off their clothes. Like you’re in a super rush to get somewhere or something—”

“We’re fucking!” he cuts in sharply. “This is a one-night stand, not a relationship.”

Closing your eyes and dropping your head, you pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh in exaggeration.

“Thought we agreed no rebuttals...” you softly sing-say.  

Jaemin’s head sinks a little into his blanket. “Sorry.”

Removing your hand, you shrug. “Maybe there’s some rule that I don’t know about one-night stands, so this could be on me.”

You start to aimlessly tread back and forth in front of him, dragging the blanket along too. “But fuck, foreplay is foreplay for a reason. You work your way up to the heat of the moment and it makes sex much better, regardless if you’re in a relationship with the person or not.”

“Next point.” You stop walking and direct your focus on him. Pointing your finger and looking him dead in the eye, you ask, “Do you know what a vagina is?”

He snorts with a simper. “Uhhh, is this a rhetorical question?”

“No, I’m legit asking,” you say with a raised eyebrow and snarky smile. “Because when you went down on me, all you flicked your tongue at was the outside of it, also called the labia if you didn’t know.”

“I’m premed, of course I—”

“Which is great! But you didn’t go any deeper nor did you go near my clit.”

You thrust your finger again. “Do you also know what that is?”

“Yes...” he groans with the flickering eyelids.

You swipe your arm through the air. “Maybe make use of it, and not only when you go down on girls. Even during sex, touching it is great.”

“And lastly,” you continue. “I’ll be honest here, you have a decent dick.”

Jaemin waggles his finger. “So you were lying before—”

“I wasn’t lying,” you retort firmly. “But anyways, you’ve got the stuff, but why don’t you put it to better use?”

With the following words, you attempt to gesture with your body and execute moves as graphic visuals. Jaemin giggles at the sight.

“Vary the speeds and the angle, don’t just slam it in me and go crazy fast from the get-go. Build up to the climax. Jesus, I couldn’t even get close to coming because you’re like a jackhammer from start to finish.”

When you finally finish, Jaemin’s giggles morph into hollow laughs. Frustration is blatant on your face, pondering if he even absorbed a single word you said.  

After he calms down, he asks, “Are you done?”

You mumble, “Yeah, I think so.”

The two of you switch places. He shuffles onto his feet with his blanket while you sit back on the couch.

Jaemin pulls the blanket across the floor as he ambles. “Okay, your head game is decent—”

“Excuse you, my head game is strong.”

“Uh-uh, rebuttal,” he points out.  

You sigh. Pinching your fingers together, you drag the invisible zipper across your mouth, then wave your hand, allowing him to resume.

“Your head game is decent. You definitely can deepthroat, but—” He mirrors you from before and extends his index finger.

“One: this happened only a few times, but your teeth scraped against my dick, which is why I assumed you were a borderline virgin.”

You fume silently at the accusation, attempting to not speak up with a heap of rebuttals. But he wasn’t wrong—if you teethed on his dick, that’s a classic virgin move.

“But that’s okay, because we already established that you’re just rusty.” Jaemin flashes you a fake comforting smile as he continues to pace. You flash him one back.

“And two—” He holds another finger out. “Don’t be scared to use your hands and stroke me. Give my dick some love. If it’s too wet, just wipe your hands on the bed or something.”

“Okay, duly noted,” you hum. “Next.”

“Don’t be scared to touch me.”

“I touched you so much during—”

He shoots you a glare. You roll your mouth inward, your lips disappearing instantly.

“Your hands were mostly on the sheets, which is hot, but guys like to be felt up too.”

The attractive individual peers up for a second, thinking to himself. “Even hotter when a girl feels herself up during the fucking, but that’s beside the point. Baby steps, just remember to touch the other person.”

Jaemin does a full-stop and faces you.

“And just... don’t fake it.” Distress is evident in his pout. You hate to admit it, but it’s a little cute. He raises an arm and jerks it in the air. “Why do girls fake it?”

“Because guys with egos like you can’t handle criticism,” you reply bluntly.  

“What are we doing, having this conversation, hm?”

“We wouldn’t be having this conversation if it didn’t snow in and keep us here together.” You peel a hand away and gesture to the window. “If I walked out of here this morning, you would’ve just fucked the next girl the same.”

He defends himself, “Faking it just feeds our egos.”

“Yeah, well, if I told you afterwards that I didn’t come, what would you do?”

“Try to make you come in other ways?”

Shaking your head, you scoff. “Guys like you aren’t that considerate.”

“You’re right.” He assents, holding his pointer finger against his chest. “Because guys like me aim to please.”

A brilliant thought leaps in his mind and Jaemin gasps. You can only assume bad things from the wicked smile he sends your way.  

“Why don’t we try it again?”

Perplexed, you squint at him.

“Try what again...?”

“Sex,” he says enthusiastically.

You blankly stare at him.

“You’ve gotta be joking,” you deadpan.

“I mean, there’s nothing else to do and it’ll keep us warm.” 

You continue to stare at him until you groan.

“Oh, my God...” Your blanket droops a bit off your shoulders as you drag your palms across your face. “I cannot believe I’m stuck in this snowstorm with you out of all people...”

Sitting next to you, Jaemin persistently reasons with you. “Think of it also as another learning experience for the future partners we’ll have.”

“Yeah, if we don’t die first!” you shriek.

“We’re not going to die,” Jaemin replies in a mocking tone and a dart of his tongue.  

Outside the window, the snow seems to have slowed down, but not by much.  

God, Jaemin better be fucking right because you want to live to see another day.  

“Fine,” you mutter and match his gaze. “But we have to be vocal throughout the whole thing. Say whatever’s on our mind.”

“Fine,” he agrees to your terms. He produces the same wicked smile again. “But can we film it then? So we can study it after?”

You fire him a death glare that melts his face off, even in the frigid atmosphere.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, waving his hand.

They say that jokes are half-meant true, but you think Jaemin fully meant it. Still in your blanket jackets, Jaemin snags your free hand and leads you to his room.

“You gotta give me credit for trying, though.”

“No.” You shake your head with an unwilling smile creeping on the edge of your lips. On second thought, maybe the joke was a little funny, but you still stand by your opinion that he’s the most annoying person in the world. “I don’t think I will.”

“Thank God Chenle has so many scented candles...”

On the edge of Jaemin’s bed, huddled by the blanket, you watch him light up several large jars, placing them on his nightstand and desk in hopes to brighten the room. It’s already late afternoon, but one could mistaken it for nighttime with the muddy sky due to the snow.

“Is Chenle your roommate?”

“Yeah,” Jaemin answers with a slight shiver, igniting the last candle near the bedside. He removed his blanket when he went to nab the matches and candles. “His girlfriend gets free ones from work, so she always gives him a shit ton, even though he never uses them.”

With a glowing hue against his face, he blows out the match. He makes his way to you, a cocky grin plastered on him, as he says, “Guess we’re making use of them now, though.”

Before you can even respond, Jaemin gets right down to business—sitting beside you on the mattress, he palms your face and drags you in for a kiss. You softly yelp, but immediately reciprocate.

The cover falls off your body as you reach to touch him, fingers drifting over his solid arms.

You don’t want to stroke his large ego, and maybe it’s because you haven’t had anyone else on you in a while, but Jaemin’s kisses are something else.

The cushiony pair of lips always executes enough pressure against your mouth, increasing and decreasing on command in perfect tandem and timing. His hands hover over your waist and the nape of your neck, fingers sinking into your hot skin.  

His mouth trails downward the side of your neck. You crane your head back, indulging in his caresses as soft moans trickle out.

He gently signals for you to recline back and lay onto the mattress, moving the sea of blankets aside. Inclined on his elbow, almost atop of you, his cool fingers glide under your top layers, his thumb stroking against your stomach.

Pulling away from your body, he tugs on the ends of your clothes. You rise from the bed to better the angle for him to discard of them.

The hairs on your skin are standing on end from the frigid air, but you’re too focused on Jaemin’s mouth migrating over your upper arm and your bra-covered chest to care. Without notice, he stuffs a cup of the bra to one side and takes your bosom into his mouth.

Air’s seized from your lungs and your core contracts from the pleasure. Your fingers tug on Jaemin’s luscious locks and his free hand squeezes your unoccupied breast.    

After a few twirls of his tongue and a gentle drawing of his teeth on the pointed tip, he mumbles hotly into your chest while he thumbs your other nipple, “Foreplay still non-existent?”

“It’s better, I guess,” you sigh with fluttering eyes. His chuckling reverberates against your cleavage, a sign of amusement from your obstinacy. A gasp pierces the room as Jaemin repeats his actions onto the other breast.

He aids you in taking off the rest of your clothes and, obviously aware of your goosebumps and shuddering, tells you to get underneath the blankets while he strips himself.

Under the toasty ocean of layers, despite how both of you are bare-boned and how easy it is to jump into the main act, Jaemin purposefully continues to prolong the foreplay. Side by side, your lips meld endlessly; your legs and hands are intertwined in an amorous pretzel.

Jaemin ensures he doesn’t leave any part of you untouched—the pads of fingers virtually graze over every inch of your body. Each grip and drag of his digits sends you in a frenzy. Your chest is pressed into him and your eyes are blinded with desire.

In the back of your mind, you think about how you were right about foreplay working up to the heat of the moment—literally, because you’re dripping, he’s hard, and you two have embraced so much that you don’t need the blankets anymore.  

On the other hand, you wonder if Jaemin was right about skipping foreplay, because with every whisper of each other’s name, the intimacy rises immensely. You don’t know him, and neither him with you, but you’re both freely drowning in one another in a plane beyond the lust.

Although the room’s beginning to smell of a mix of all the scented candles, Jaemin hones in and drinks in your sweet aroma and your entirety behind his hazy eyes and already tousled hair. All of a sudden, one drag of his fingers over a particular sensitive spot on your body makes you giggle.

“I’m ticklish over there.”

“You mean right—” He drums his fingers over the area again. “—here?”

With a toothy grin, he generates more suffering from you and you begin to lively howl. Soon enough, you beg him to stop.

“You’re such an asshat, c’mon, let me live!”

When he ceases, his head hangs over yours and your gazes connect.

The same feeling blooms in his chest from before in the living room.

He gulps as his eyes waver over your face, unknowingly tracing your beautiful features and etching them into his memory.

Your starry eyes. Your glowing aura. Your everything.

You barely register the change in his expression because he quickly tramples on his moment of weakness by kissing you passionately.

Jaemin whips the blankets aside as he lowers himself between your legs. Your eyes are fixated on him, matching his stare, until he starts to devour you by swiping against your lustrous folds. Your back bows, and, following a few more licks, Jaemin makes a point of his knowledge of the vagina by spreading your lips and ravishing your pussy, tongue penetrating deeply.

Rippled moans release in harmony with your undulating chest. You swear you’re getting more wet, too wet, likely making it overwhelming for Jaemin, but he’s eagerly lapping every drop up.  

“How’s that?” he inquires with a grin, hovering over your trembling nether lips. His mouth is evidently glossy, even under the dim lighting.

“Good,” you pant in the most nonchalant tone you can muster up. “Very good-ahhh—”

Jaemin kindly interrupts you by tonguing your clit as he fingers your sex deeply, shattering your fake indifference.

“Move your tongue up more,” you direct, creasing your eyebrows in despair. He follows your direction, and droning moans ensue.

Jaemin’s immersed in your pleasure, but also adding to his own. The more he laps up your wetness, the more he grinds his length against the bed, aching to be inside of you.

Your desire pulses faster, contracting tighter against his fingers, body winding tensely by the second.

“Fuck, Jaemin,” you whine, leaning your head to one side with a parted mouth. “I’m close.”

He draws back and temporarily replaces his tongue with his thumb.

“Good,” he pants, cocking his head to one side. His eyes are filled with determination. “Because I’m not stopping until you come at least two more times tonight.”

You exhale a light laugh. “That’s ambiti-ohgodohgod—”

His tongue works wonders on your clit once more, so much that he has to brace your bucking hips.

Okay, maybe Jaemin did learn a thing or two and actually listened to what you said during your critique.

But now it’s time to demonstrate to him what you’ve learned.

You don’t need much of a break to catch your breath, nor do you want to immediately freeze due to inactivity, so you pull Jaemin in for an intense kiss, tongue dipping into the remnants of your own nectar, then beckon for him to take your former place on the bed.

Perched on the bottom of your feet, you’re on one side of Jaemin, lackadaisically fisting his prominence. After a few strokes, you gradually swallow his inches, keeping in mind to relax your jaw and to not rush in order to avoid any potential teething. You do this to prove yourself worthy of giving head, but also in spite, because you absolutely do not need Jaemin to brand you a virgin again.  

You read his quiet groans and his long fingers running lazily through your hair as a positive sign and advance further.

Carefully, you rest your tongue beneath the underside of his cock and bob your head, licking him until he’s sopping with your saliva. His grip in your hair grows in strength as his length reaches the end of your throat, his groans becoming more and more drawn-out.

A needy whimper leaves him as you suddenly withdraw. Dribbles of your spit follow, and you wipe it off with the back of your hand.  

“How am I doing?” you glow in a pant, lazily stroking the doused shaft.

He simply nods with half-lidded eyes, barely able to look at you. “Yeah.”

You snicker at him in his breathless position, a prickle of pride running through your spine over the fact that you blew his mind as much as you blew his dick.

“Use your words, Jaemin.”

Teasingly, your fingers curl around his blunt head, soothing the sensitive tip and sending jolts throughout him.

“Fuck—” he pulls his bottom lip upward. “Awesome. You’re doing awesome.”

“Anything to critique?”

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head restlessly. You revel a bit more in having the upper hand on him a little while longer. You grip him tighter and hasten your speed, leaving him gasping for air.

“Am I still rusty?”

“Nope, nope,” he croaks, voice rising to a whine. “Definitely not rusty.”

“You sure?” His cockiness has transferred over to you.

“Yes, yes—fuck, slow down, please,” Jaemin begs.    

Granting his wish, you abate your rhythm and free his inches from your touch.

You wipe your hands on the sides of the bed while Jaemin rummages through the drawer of his nightstand and hastily rolls over the rubber over himself before he prepares to enter the body beneath his.  

Recalling your advice, Jaemin mindfully starts off slow. You sigh blissfully in sync to his thrusts. He adjust himself, attempting another angle, and you draw in air between your teeth.

“There, there—“

Jaemin’s quick-witted and keeps at it, plunging a bit more vigorously. Out of habit, your hands grasp onto the bedsheets, but you wittingly attach them to his frame. Hands grazing his neck, his firm pecs, and his taut muscles.  

“Touch-touch my stomach,” he orders in a hush.

You hands follow through and feel up the flexed valley of his abs. Feeling up evolves into desperate gripping and even the slight dragging of your nails.

“Your abs are so fucking hot,” you state thoughtlessly, eyes eating up the view alongside his cock disappearing in and out of you. “Jesus, fuck.”

“Yeah?” he rasps with that devilish smirk of his. God, you want to smack it off him, but not right now—not when you’re reaching euphoria. “You’re not just saying that?”

Oh, you’ve definitely stroked his ego now, but there’s no turning back. Truth spills from you on a whim.

“You’re a fucking masterpiece,” you gasp acutely.

You’re starting to wither away, yet, as if they have a life of their own, your hands drift away from him and find a new home atop your breasts.

“You make me feel so good, Jaemin...”

Jaemin’s eyes go wide. His mouth hangs at the lewdness of you touching yourself.

“Fuck, holy shit.”

His gaze doesn’t leave your ecstatic face or humming body for a second as you knead your breasts and tweak your nipples between your fingers. Your back arches further when Jaemin deepens his sweet, fulfilling thrusts. He’s holding himself back, not wanting to end this beautiful deed just yet.

The stimulation bursts over your body, both from your own doing and Jaemin’s.  

You plead, “Faster, please, faster.”

And he complies, but he also rubs your bundle of nerves, causing a tight knot in you to build up and your shallow moans transform into heavy screams. You clasp onto his back and claw at the protruding shoulder blades.  

“I’m-I’m—”

You clench, both with your core and your nails digging into him, but Jaemin’s unrelenting, capturing your second peak for the evening.

Instead of coming after you, he shockingly veers lower and closer to you and curbs his pace.

“Was that real?”

You respond with an exhausted nod. Oddly, the smile he shows this time isn’t arrogant, but warm and teetering the line of tenderness. His lips fuse with yours before they stray towards your neck. The passion stews as he sucks your tits, all the while lunging laxly into you.  

With an obscene pop!, Jaemin removes himself from your nubs.

“Ready for the last round?”

His fast thrusts, hitting you precisely in the best spot, cloud your already weakened logic, deterring you from making any response.    

Perspiration is blatant on both individuals. For him, his forehead glistens gorgeously with his damp hair. For you, the back of your bent knees are gluing together. Your bodies are about to pass out, but you both persevere until the end.

As you convulse and perish together in beautiful agony, coincidentally enough, the bulbs in the room and in the streets leap to radiance.

Together, you collapse onto the bed side by side, panting heavily and laughing.

“Told you we weren’t going to die.”

You turn your head to see Jaemin looking at you with a cheeky grin. In retaliation, you stick your tongue out.

By nighttime, it’s finally stopped snowing outside. However, the streets won’t be cleared until morning, at the very least.

But... you’re surprisingly okay with that.

In a turn of events, the sex inexplicably makes the two of you warm up to each other. There still is targeted banter and tension between you, lingering from before, but it’s less hostile and more playful.

During a fancy Christmas Eve dinner of microwavable pizzas, you poke fun at each other’s majors and discuss your respective hobbies in depth, especially his love for photography. Jaemin even asks if he can take a picture of you, claiming that the kitchen lighting actually looks nice on someone for once.  

“Is that how you collect the memory of your one-night stands? Instead of hanging their skins in your closet, you sweet-talk your way and keep all the photos of them?” you joke, referring to the video call from yesterday night. It feels like an eternity ago, but snowstorms tend to do that.

He chuckles behind the camera as he snaps a photo of you scrunching your face cutely.

“Yeah, but you’re the first one who has clothes on,” he says, glancing down at the photo on the camera roll.  

“Ugh, gross,” you cringe and take a sip of tea.

Jaemin doesn’t add anything further. He leaves out the fact that he never keeps any traces of his one-night stands, that you’re the first girl he’s taken a picture of in a while.  

After a few hours of more talking and even some gaming with one another, sleep is much needed. Jaemin offers an extra toothbrush and a sweater and pair of sweats to sleep in. You’re facing each other on his bed, noses almost touching.  

“It’s been a while since I haven’t had sex with a girl before I slept next to them,” he whispers, adjusting himself comfortably. The side of his face rests on his piled hands. “It’s kinda nice.”

You cover your mouth as you yawn, then lay your hand back under your head, reflecting the same position as Jaemin.

“You know, it might be my sleepiness talking, but maybe you’re not the worst person in the world to be stuck with during a snowstorm.”

A lovely chuckle echoes in your ear. “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart.”

After a few moments, your eyes are fluttering to a close until he softly calls out your name.

“Hm?” you stir awake, but not by much.

“Do you...?”

Jaemin doesn’t know what’s gotten to him, doesn’t quite understand why the defences he built for so long are crumbling down in only a day of knowing you.  

And yet, something urges him to give it a chance.

Blowing out a shaky sigh, he anxiously intertwines his fingers with yours. You hum softly at the action and a small smile blooms on your face.

“Do you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

“Hm?” His question doesn’t take you aback as much as you would be if you were fully awake. But even in your drowsy state, you have quips in hand. “Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, wants to go on a date?”

“Yeah,” he replies gently, brushing your loose hair out of your face.

Another yawn. “I thought you said you don’t want feelings and relationships and all that shit.”

His fingers trace your pretty jawline and shrugs. “One date doesn’t mean we’re going to be in a relationship, I’m sure you know that.”

You pause for a good two seconds, but the two seconds feel like forever for Jaemin.

“Mmm, fine. One date, just one.” You barely hold up your pointer finger. “And only because it’s Christmas tomorrow. ‘Tis the season to be giving...”

Relief washes over Jaemin in the form of a smile. Embracing the blatant feeling in his chest this time, he plants a light kiss on your nose and wishes you sweet dreams, even though you’ve already fallen soundly asleep.  

Sunlight pours over your eyes on Christmas morning.

Déjà vu peculiarly creeps up on you, but the only thing that’s the same as yesterday is waking up in Jaemin’s bed.

He’s next to you this time, deep in his peaceful slumber, instead of waiting for you to leave by his doorframe. The snow has finally stopped, and you think you hear the faint noises of snow plows outside. You inhale deeply and also notice the faded aroma from all the scented candles from last night.

The scenes of yesterday flicker across your mind. The incredible sex. The talking. The dinner. The interlocking of his fingers with yours.

The date he asked you out on.

You stare at him, watching him sleep with a sense of content.

Turning your body, you routinely check your phone, which is charging beside his. You have a slew of Merry Christmas texts from several chats and a few private messages from your friends.

Your attention falls on Jaemin’s phone when it lights up with a notification, likely texts from his friends and family too.

But that’s not what you’re focusing on.

Your heart sinks at the sight of his lockscreen.

It’s a picture of him and a girl kissing.

A twinge emerges in your chest and twists harder and harder.

Jaemin being a fuckboy, you can respect. People can do whatever they want with their lives.

But to cheat?

That’s unforgivable, and a true sin if there ever was one.

You scramble to dash out of there, careful not to make any noises in fear of waking Jaemin up. However, Jaemin’s sensitive to the sounds of the front door, so he rouses awake. His eyes flit open, noticing how you’re gone. He then sees his phone blowing up and adds two and two together.

With his phone in hand, Jaemin rushes to get on a coat and stuffs his feet into his boots, not giving a shit that he’s wearing his thin pajamas in the coldness. He’s bounding down the flight of stairs and onto the bright, white wonderland of the streets.

He swivels his head and catches sight of you almost past down the block, slowly trekking through the thick snow. Jaemin sprints, as much as he can, and hops towards you.  

He yells your name, making others on the street turn, but you don’t. You continue forward without looking back.

“Wait! I can explain!”

You’re trying to gain speed, but cardio isn’t your friend. Thankfully for Jaemin, it’s a close friend for him.

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it, Jaemin,” you grunt, hearing the rapid crunching of his shoes coming closer. “Get lost.”

“No, listen to me for a second.”

The boyish man grasps you by the arm and turns you around. You throw his arm away from you and he holds his hands in the air, letting you know that he respects your space. He drops his hands and sees that you’re seething, even worse than you were when he kicked you out yesterday.

“How are you going to explain your lockscreen with you kissing your fucking girlfriend?! Hm?”

“Ex,” he pants in clarification. “Ex-girlfriend.”

Your eyebrows mesh together in utter confusion.

“Okay? That doesn’t make me feel any better, knowing that you’re still hung up on your ex.”

Jaemin shakes his head and rakes a hand through his hair. You note the large clouds he exhales and how he’s barely wearing any clothes. A tinge of sympathy passes through you, wanting to give him some of your clothes for extra layers, but you smother that quickly in your state of rage.  

“I’m not hung up on her. Remember you asked me yesterday why I don’t want girls to stay the next morning?”

You cock your head impatiently, as if saying, “Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t want to attach myself to girls. I can’t. I...”

He lowers his head to one side. Shutting his eyes, a long puff emits from his mouth.

“She cheated on me.”

The snow plows in the distance can’t compare to the pumping of your heart in your ears. All the feelings you felt in the last day, but especially in the last fifteen minutes, jumble together in your head, making you feel uneasy and unsure of what to exactly feel or comprehend of the situation.  

But you do know one thing, despite the fact that you two barely know each other, the pained look on his face is real—that this is the untold story behind his ways.  

Jaemin lifts his head and holds out his phone for emphasis. “The lockscreen serves as a constant reminder that dating and feelings will and can fuck me up.”

Carefully, he steps a little closer to you and slowly cups your face in his shaking hands. You don’t pull away nor is there the same anger from moments before, so he daintily runs his thumbs over your cheeks.

“Until you showed me yesterday that maybe I’m willing to give it all another shot. Risk it all for fuck knows what, but you make it look like it’s worth it.”

He continues his ramble after adjusting some of your hair from the ongoing breeze.

“Sure, it’s Christmas today, but I don’t want you to say yes to going on a date with me just because it is. I want you to say yes because maybe you like spending time with me just as much as I like to spend it with you.”

You’re completely disoriented—your eyes are shifting everywhere but his eyes and your lips are quivering with no words coming out. He sighs understandingly. 

“Look, I know you’re probably having second thoughts and you don’t have to give me an answer right now. Think on it for as much time as you need, but I want you to know that I genuinely like you and I want to go on an actual date with you.”

He peels his hand away from your face and raises it into the air as if taking an oath.

“I, Na Jaemin, the notorious fuckboy and serial one-night stander, will devote to monogamy once again if it means I can date you.”

His hands grab yours, kisses the back of them, and then he presses one kiss onto your icy cheek prior to walking away.

“Merry Christmas,” he says with a sad smile. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Later that evening at your large family’s Christmas party, you take another dreadful gulp of your wine.

It’s the happy holiday season, but why does everyone feel the need to stick their nose in your dating life? Well, really, a lack there of.

“Why are you still single?” Layers of their voices resound the same question in your head. You take another swig.

Potential unsaid answers that you kept to yourself fly around as you swish the drink in your glass.  

Because you choose to be.

Okay, not really, but it’s the easiest answer.  

Because you haven’t found the right guy to get you back in the game.

What does that even mean? What makes the right guy even right?

The right guy? It’s someone who makes you laugh, someone who gives as good as they can take it, someone who wants you just as much as you do.

The cogs move in your head as you take one more sip before you finally come to the conclusion—  

Because you didn’t find the right guy until last night.

Despite the mess of today and yesterday morning, you realize that Jaemin is... actually sort of sweet. Annoying, yes, but he keeps you on your toes. It’s a plus that he’s easy on the eyes, but it’s a bigger plus that he’s even easier to talk to.

And if he can find it in his scorched heart to trust you, you can find it in your heart to trust him too.  

You quickly say your good-byes to your family and let them know you have other plans with friends tonight.

As the Uber rolls up to his apartment building, you realize you probably should’ve messaged him on Tinder, but it’s worth a shot to see if he’s home. Anyways, impulsiveness is a controlling entity, as evident from your Christmas Eve Eve’s adventure.

And in retrospect, perhaps Jaemin was the perfect pick of the crop after all.  

Someone’s entering the building and lets you in behind them. You take the stairs two at a time and hear booming music coming from his floor. At first, you assume it’s from other apartments, but it’s all coming from one—his.

Without a thought, your knuckle taps the door.  

A handsome figure that’s definitely not Jaemin opens the door. Behind him, you see a group of young men scattered around the living room, and some have a few girls tucked under their arms.

The man eyes you up and down with a spark in his eye. He’s not Jaemin, but he surely reminds you of him.

“And who might you be?” he asks.

“Who’s at the door, Jeno?” An unknown male voice hollers in a high pitch from the couch. He’s one of the guys with a girl attached to him.

You blink. “Uhm, I’m—”

“She’s with me!” Jaemin shoves the flirty stranger aside and tugs you by your wrist, making headway to his bedroom. He flips the light switch on and the door clicks shut.

“What are you doing h—”

You cut him off with a kiss.

An innocent one, at first, with hints of alcohol on each other’s lips. Your arms wrap around the other and the passion increases with the mingling of your tongues, each party tasting and confirming the specific drinks you both consumed tonight.  

Jaemin forces himself to pull away and presses his forehead against yours. “Did you just come all the way here to kiss me, or...?”

“Maybe I came over to ask... if I can stay with you for another night?” you playfully ask, fingers intertwining behind the nape of his neck.  

He chuckles heartily. His fingers sink into the sides of your waist. “Is my dick that great? The sex with me that amazing?”

“Mmm, that’s definitely a benefit,” you agree, fluttering your nose against his. “But I want more than that—“ You poke a finger to his chest. “—I want the man behind the dick.”

Your gazes converge, bringing you together as one.

“I want to go on that date with you. I want you, Jaemin.”

He flashes a megawatt smile that could compete with a million Christmas lights, but it fades suddenly and you’re unsure why he seems like he’s about to bawl his eyes out.

“That’s so beautiful, I might cry.” He brings a finger to his eye, pretending to shed a tear.

Oh, yeah—you’re definitely going to need to hire someone to constantly shove your eyeballs back into your sockets if you’re going to date Jaemin.

“Oh, shut up,” you whisper, yanking him in for another kiss.

Three dates later, including a memorable New Year’s Eve, you finally decide to rid of the Tinder app for good.

With his arm around you on his living room couch, Jaemin glances over your shoulder.

“Really? You’re finally deleting your Tinder?”

You snort in disbelief. “That’s gold, coming from the King of Tinder himself. When did you delete?”

He turns to face the television and shrugs coolly.

“Maybe I didn’t.”

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” you nod, eyes still on your phone.

“Nah, I’m kidding, I did.”    

You sharply turn your head.

“No way. When?” you press with narrow eyes.  

A shy smile emerges on Jaemin’s face as he picks his pants over his thighs.

“On the night of Christmas Eve, after you agreed to go on a date with me.”

[rocorambles]

Patient 1: Addiction

Pairing: Toji x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Predator and Prey themes, Cum play, Knife play, Non-Con, Degradation

Link to: Prologue

Patient Name: Fushiguro Toji

Diagnosis: Adrenaline Addiction

Your brow furrows as you stare down at your first patient’s files. An addiction isn’t uncommon, but to adrenaline? You suppose it’s possible to become addicted to just about anything. Yet there are a million questions buzzing on the tip of your tongue as you turn to Uraume who just shrugs and says you’re better off hearing it straight from Toji’s own mouth.

Everything about this psychiatric facility is strange and you curiously stare at the elevator buttons as both of you descend, noting how each button has a name of a patient next to it with the final button having no label.

“Each patient has their own floor. They’ve been here for so long that we thought it would be more humane to give them ample room to live in instead of the standard patient rooms you typically see in other facilities. After all, we’re not here to treat them like caged animals, right?”

The humanitarian in you can’t defy that logic, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s safe for them to not be bound during your session, only to cringe at your own thoughts. They’re just ill patients, humans just like you, not prisoners. With that newfound determination you stride out of the elevator only to freeze when you hear the outer elevator cage slam close on your heels.

You turn, hoping to see Uraume right behind you, but your heart sinks when you see them safely on the other side of the metal fence, an eerie grin on their face as the actual elevator doors slide shut, leaving you with some parting words.

“I’ll see you when you’re done seeing all your patients today.”

Not even seconds pass before you’re scrambling to look for a button or anything to help pry open the elevator doors, fear overwhelming you as Uraume’s ominous farewell haunts you. But there’s no escape and you turn around to take in your surroundings, trembling and on the verge of tears.

Expansive is an understatement and you nervously walk around the dimly lit area, quickly losing track of all the rooms, corridors, and dead ends you bypass and amble through despite doing your best to keep track of everything. It almost feels like it’s meant to be a maze or obstacle course of sorts…

“Well, well, well. Look at the new little mouse I’ve found.”

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest only to still in shock when you see a familiar face grinning at you, immediately connecting it to the manilla folder tightly clenched in your hands.

“Fushiguro Toji?”

“And you must be the new shrink. Follow me, doc. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. They always do.”

You don’t want to think about what’s happened to your predecessors, this “they” Toji’s referring to. You don’t want to follow this stranger. You don’t want to be trapped in this unknown environment with a highly dangerous patient and no means of escape. But what choice do you have? And with limbs weighted with despair, you trail after the dark haired man.

You’re surprised when Toji leads you into a room not far off from the police interrogation rooms you’ve seen in movies. A single table with a chair on either side are the only furniture in the room and you quietly take a seat across from where Toji has casually slumped himself down. But you note how his large stature easily overwhelms the small space, making the substantial table between you seem meaningless.

There’s silence as you fidget and fumble with Toji’s file, trying to find any professionalism and composure you have left as said patient continues leering at you, an amused smirk ever present on his face. It feels silly to treat this like any other examination, but it seems like the only thing you can do, what Toji himself is expecting of you.

“What is...what is adrenaline addiction, in your own words?”

You wonder if this is what opening Pandora’s box felt like, the question barely out of your mouth before regret instantly seizes you as Toji’s grin only grows wider and sharper, a crazed look in his eyes when he replies.

“It means I like being excited a little too much, doc.”

“And what excites you?”

You don’t want to know his response, but it’s the only way forward and dread fills you as he responds.

“Oh, lots of things. The burn of my throat and rush to my head after taking a shot. Gambling and the uncertainty of whether you’ll win or lose. The look of despair on my victim’s face when I shove a knife through their beating heart. The way it feels so fucking perfect to shove my dick in any tight hole it’ll fit in. But you know what makes me the most excited, doc?”

It’s theatrical how he tapers off, green eyes piercing you as he silently orders you to acknowledge him. And all you can do is shake your head side to side, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you play right into his hands.

“What makes me the most excited is the thrill of hunting pretty prey like you.”

Instincts have you jumping out of your chair and bolting from the room. You don’t dare turn to see if Toji is chasing you down, his amused cackle at your expense trailing behind you. You’re blindly running, no sense of direction as you randomly turn left and right, your only prerogative to keep moving, hopefully farther and farther from your patient. Every corridor, every passage, every room looks the same and you struggle to breathe as quietly as you can despite the way your lungs ache.

You strain to listen, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the drumming of your racing heart and you don’t hear the figure casually ambling towards you until you’re being roughly shoved face first into the wall you’re leaning on, a toned figure pressed against your back, caging you in.

“Now, now. You’re making this way too easy. Tired already?”

It’s a rhetorical question, one you can’t bring yourself to answer anyway, not with the way your teeth chatter and your body trembles in fear as Toji loudly inhales your scent while he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, tongue lazily licking a strike of your salty sweat.

You sob as he harshly bites down, not enough to break skin, but enough to leave you aching and hold you still as his hands wander underneath your clothes, groping and kneading your breasts and ass. You’re too scared to move, fearing the consequences of resisting, praying that maybe this is it, that you’ll be let off when he gets his fill of feeling you up. But you can’t help the way you yelp and instinctively struggle against his hold when he tires of your frozen state and decides to ruthlessly twist your nipples and shove a thick finger into your tight hole.

“There we go. Glad to know you’re still alive and kicking. I don’t enjoy fucking dead and broken toys like that pink haired bastard does.”

Pink haired bastard? Your mind briefly flashes to a hazy picture you’re sure you had seen in one of the patient files. What was his name-

You shriek as Toji shoves another finger alongside the digit already in you, sobbing as you feel him stretching your walls, relentlessly pounding his fingers in and out of you, his fingers painfully pulling at your nipples. All you hear is his grunts in your ears and you clench your eyes in disgust when you feel a long hard object grinding against you, knowing full well what it is without even looking.

He’s going to rape and kill you. This is how it all ends. And you wait for it, the searing pain of that massive shaft impaling you. But it never comes and before you know it you’re moaning as he twists and flexes until he finds that soft spongy spot inside of you, insistently rubbing and stroking it with curled fingers as he continues dry humping you from behind.

You’re so lost in the sensations that you don’t notice how your body is betraying you as it unconsciously grinds back against Toji’s hand, your ass shaking and pressing even harder against Toji’s cock. It’s funny how easily you’ve lost any common sense, but you’re not here to be a vapid bimbo toy. He’ll save that side of you for one his fellow inhabitants who’ll appreciate it more and he abruptly pulls his now soaked digits out of you, snorting at how you whine from the loss.

You look so confused, so stupid as he rapidly finishes himself off, hooking down your bottoms low enough for him to shoot his sticky seed all over the inner fabric of your panties. And he grins when you practically moan as he pulls your undergarments back into place, cruelly tugging a tad too hard and wedging his cum and the stained lace deep between your abused folds.

You’re panting, looking like a wreck as you try to ground yourself from the dizzying confusion of being pulled right from the brink of an orgasm, the emptiness of your edging making your head foggy. But then something sharp is being pressed against your vulnerable neck and it’s enough to have fear jolt you back to your senses.

“Don’t be such a boring slut. Time to run and hide again. It’s playtime, bitch. Or maybe you need me to cut you up a bit. Pain’s always a good motivator.”

He’s barely finished speaking before you’re shoving him and his knife away from you and he whistles in appreciation as he watches you race away again, taking his time to tuck himself back in his pants. You’ll need as much of a head start anyway to even try and remotely make some sense of this labyrinth he knows every corner of. Not that any advantage will actually help you much. Toji’s never had a prey he couldn’t catch.

How many times has he found you and released you after defiling you just a bit more every time? Neither of you can keep track and only when Toji has shoved his cock in all three of your holes, filling every orifice with his cum and fuckig you until you can barely walk does your session end. It’s almost comical how he has to quite literally drag you back to the elevator you had come from and he cruelly laughs at the white sticky trail you’re leaving behind you with your loose holes unable to keep in the copious fluids.

You barely register what’s happening, too exhausted, too fucked out of your mind to even be bothered by the rough friction of the ground against your body, only mildly stunned by the fact that the elevator you had frantically tried to re-enter is now innocently open. And it’s with muted despair that you realize what fate has in store for you as Toji presses the button of the next lower level.

Gojo Satoru

The neatly labeled name is all you register before the elevator doors slide open and you’re shoved out of it, blearily making out the sight of Toji tauntingly waving at you from inside the metal enclosure.

“See you at tomorrow’s session, doc.”

Your world goes dark as the elevator doors shut.

[katsukikitten]

Rapacious - rə-ˈpā-shəs- excessively grasping or covetous, living on prey,  ravenous

(A rapacious appetite only for you my doll)

Hello and welcome to my first formal collab with the lovely @lady-bakuhoe Our thirsty dms finally turned into a full blown collab where our writing melds into one. I hope y'all enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

✧Triggers and Warnings ✧

Pro Hero Dynamight, aged up AU, adult themes, such as intense sexual interaction, yandere behavior, mind break (?), branding, and dub con. If any of these topics make you uncomfortable please do not read any further. Thank you.

The snow comes down heavily, beautifully as it sticks and clings to anything it can. Blanketing the outside world in an unsullied shimmer bringing a smile to your face as you watch the sun dip low over the horizon. The light painting the world in stunning reds and pinks as it filters in through your bay window that faces the street. A small shiver runs through your spine as you wait impatiently for your warm tea, convincing yourself that the chill has nothing to do with your outfit. An oversized Red Riot t-shirt, a pair of black dolphin shorts and black thigh high socks, it was comfortable and you felt cute. Even if it was just for yourself, besides what else would one wear to their solo Netflix binging? Surely not pants. 

A rapid knock comes at the door. Harsh, precise as you jump out of your skin, nearly dropping your mug. 

Lifting your cell phone to check the time, wondering who could be knocking at this hour, it was far too late for any visitors and it surely wasn't the post. The icy snow ensured that most people would be snuggled into their couches with a warm cup of tea, tucked away from the harsh weather. Much like you were trying to do, maybe if you ignored it the unsuspecting visitor would move on. 

But another sharp knock echoes around your living room, urging your feet to move. You pad through your small townhouse, trying to get a glimpse through the window only for the unwanted guest to be standing just out of view. Your heart pounds in your chest as you stare at the thick oak door, debating on whether to open it or not as another knock sounded from the other side. Curiosity with a hint of fear compels your fingers as you click your door onto the chain latch. Opening it slightly, looking out between the crack in the door to see who it was.

“H-hi.” Your eyes caught sight of the man outside your house, pupils widening in surprise at the sight of him. Messy ash blond spikes on top of his head as his hair faded to a low buzz cut at the sides, “Dynamight?” 

The man's scowl morphed into a smirk at your recognition, obviously proud that you knew who he was, his vermilion eyes glistening in the light gleaming from your house as you moved to take the door off the security latch, opening it fully so you could see him properly. His gaze immediately drank you in, glancing at the thigh high socks that hugged your thighs as he made his way up to the hem of your shirt, cherishing the exposed skin of your upper thighs until he noticed the shirt you were wearing. His nostrils flaring slightly at the sight of his best friend's face across your chest. It should be his. 

“My car broke down.” He motioned to the car that now sat motionless at the end of your drive, fresh snow already falling and covering its windscreen, “Can I come inside?” 

"Oh, um…" You're hesitant, technically you didn't know Dynamight but he was a pro hero. That meant he could be trusted right? Snow sticks to his blonde strands and shoulders. His hands and nose were a little red making it seem as if he had been in the cold a touch too long. Swallowing your fear you take a step back from the door, arm gesturing for him to come in. Silently elated he steps in as if he owns the place. What were the odds he would end up at your doorstep? 

"Um, can I offer you some coffee? Coco? Tea?" Your voice sounds small, stupid. Nervousness prickles over your skin as he sinks into your couch. 

"Tea is fine." His voice is silky and foreign in your warm home. He watches you with sharp eyes as you reach for a mug. Your short shorts ride up just a bit as your shirt gives him a tease of your back. 

Meanwhile you're buzzing from head to toe, THE one and ONLY Dynamight, the man you'd been dreaming of since his debut, the only face and voice that you ever imagined when your hands ventured into your soaked panties, was here. In your home, sitting on your couch and oh Gods...Which blanket did you have out? Was it his that you sprayed with his line of cologne so you would feel less lonely in your apartment? 

The kettle howls pulling you violently back to the task at hand. Should you ask him how he'd like his tea? You already know how he likes it, having read it in a magazine once committing it to memory in case you ever met him. But would that come off too strong? You settle on making it perfectly  in hopes it would paint you in the light of a "great hostess."  You grab onto the cup and turn to face the ill tempered hero head on. 

He turns away in time, relaxed on your couch as you offer him his cup. He takes it from your hands, his cool fingers brushing against yours. He takes a sip, peering at you over the rim. His vermillion eyes cause your stomach to flip as you nervously twist the hem of your shirt. His eyes rake over you with a smirk before they land on your worrying hands and that damned Red Riot shirt. Suddenly you're hyper aware of your inappropriate outfit, tugging your shirt over your exposed skin. 

His large palm settles on your thigh, starling you. 

"The outfit isn't the problem. I just think you look much better in my shirt." He tugs at the hem, "Maybe you should take this one off." 

“W-what?” You stammered, your body instinctively shrinking away from his touch.

“There’s just something about the way my face looks stretched against those tits.” He smirked, taking a sip of the warm mug before slipping it into your coffee table.

“What do you mean?” Confusion evident in your tone. What was he talking about? Your Dynamight merchandise? How would he have any idea about how much of a fan you were of him, just how many of his shirts sat in your closet right now. 

“Don’t act all coy.” Bakugou continued, turning his body to face yours on the couch, a dark look in his vermillion eyes as his fingers danced higher up your exposed thigh, feeling a warmth begin to seep from his palm as his cool calloused fingertips dig into your skin, “You know exactly what you’re doing.” 

“I assure you, Dynamight.” Bakugou groaned at the way his hero name sounded spilling from your lips, “I don’t know what you’re talking about?”

“Every day you’re out there being a fuckin’ tease.” He growled, biting your lip as you felt his blunt fingernails digging into the plush of your thigh, “Prancing around in these short fuckin’ shorts and my shirts.” 

Wait, had he seen you wearing his merch before? Had he seen you in his clothes? How? You were certain he’d never seen the multiple selfies you’d take of yourself to upload onto social media, always too scared to tag your favourite Hero. Instead proclaiming your love for him shamelessly on your socials, gushing about how he was the perfect hero. Still, even if he was lurking on your accounts, he couldn't possibly remember someone as lowly as you. 

“You knew I was watching you, didn’t you?” He snarled, his other hand moving up to palm your breast through your shirt, the action catching you by surprise as you gasped, “You wanted me to see you acting like such a slut.”

“N-no, Dynamight. I wasn’t-” You stammer as you think back, trying to remember all of the times you thought you felt a weighted gaze on you. Only to look over your shoulder to find nothing before submerging yourself back into your mundane world.

"Wasn't what? You mean you weren't trying to show the whole neighborhood your ass when you bent over 'pulling weeds'?" His palm becomes uncomfortably hot as his voice dips lower, lips brushing your ear as you drown in his spiced caramel scent. 

"Maybe you heard about your new neighbor Pro Hero Red Riot, wanted to show off for him? Or maybe you're just a slut who loves the attention?" 

Your blood runs cold, icy despite his burning palm, you swallow thickly as he continues to recite your summer as if reading from a list. 

"You know exactly what you're doing don'tchya? So many men have changed their jogging route to include your street, even if it is well out of their way. They slow their pace in front of your house when you're outside. Bent over, head lost in your garden and your skin tight shorts show your plump lips, your thick thighs and that supple, soft ass. Tits almost falling out from your crop tops as you must refuse to wear a bra. But you're such a good girl, reminding everyone who you belong to when you wear those shorts with my name across the ass." 

He leans away from you to hold your gaze. A shiver runs up your spine, you had never posted those shorts. The fan made ones that say "Bakugou's" across the ass, fuck how did he-?

He reads the question across your face, a nasty smirk dances on his cruel lips as he takes delight in the fear that blows your pupils wide. 

"I've been watching you Princess." You feel your heart beating out of your chest at the realisation, “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

You didn’t.

“That’s why you put on such a show for me every time, isn’t it?” 

 You hadn’t noticed your favourite Pro-Hero had been watching you all this time. You were beyond excited when Red Riot had moved into the neighbourhood, wishing you’d catch a glimpse of him each time you left your house. Getting up early some mornings just to see the red head stretching for his morning run, his muscles taut across his thick frame. But not once had Bakugou been anywhere in sight. You were sure you'd remember the ash blonde standing next to your second favorite hero. 

“You do it on purpose.” Bakugou growled, his hand moving to your exposed waist, stroking against your naked skin as his fingers dipped underneath your top, “It turns you on doesn’t it? Everyone looking at your slutty little body.”

“No, please. It doesn’t- I’m not.” You tried to move away from him, but he already had your body trapped between the arm of the couch and his large, muscular frame. 

“All those eyes on you and you don’t give a fuck.” Bakugou’s large palm grasps your round breast, groaning when he feels your nipple pebbled underneath his touch, “You want everyone to see you.”

Before you have a moment to object, to tell him how wrong he is, his lips are already against yours in a sultry kiss. Your mind hazy as he immediately prods your lips with his tongue, desperate for entrance as he invades your mouth. You couldn’t believe what was happening, The Dynamight was inside your house. Your entire body burning as his heat engulfed you, this was something you’d dreamed about more than you could recollect. The amount of nights you’d touched yourself to the thought of his hands dancing across your body. Trying to imagine how it would feel to be completely ravaged by him, but now that he was here in the flesh you were nervous. The reality of the situation slowly consumes your body as your heart beats with more intensity. 

“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” Bakugou rasps huskily as he tugs your shirt up and over your breasts, his vermilion eyes taking in the sight of your exposed chest to his prying eyes, “Even better than I imagined.”

You nervously tried to move your arms to your chest, trying to hide your body from his burning gaze, but his hand was quick to grab your wrist, tugging your arm away with a glare, “Don’t.”

You averted your eyes from his own, biting your bottom lip as he lowered his face to your chest. His tongue tentatively coming out to lap around your darkened areola, closing his lips around your hardened nipple as he began to suck on the tender skin. Your head falling onto the back of the couch as you let out a low whine, one of your hands coming up to brush through his buzzed undercut, stroking against the spiky hair as you arched your back into his touch. 

“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been thinking about this, sweetheart.” He murmured around your nipple, his warm breath fanning against your skin as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. An airy gasp leaving your parted lips at the sensation as you involuntarily arched your back into his touch, “Every fuckin’ time I saw you-”

Wait? Every time he saw you? How often did he seek out your address? How many times did his crimson eyes burn into your skin without your noticing? 

Your eyes dart to the large bay window, holding eye contact with yourself as you stare at your reflection. A pitiful and clear sight as the blonde's hands groped your exposed tits. If the pro hero was brazen enough to peer through your unobstructed window, just how many other eyes fall onto you? 

“When I saw you in my signed debut Dynamight shirt, I knew I had to have you.” His lips curving into a grin against your skin as his tongue lapped at your hardened nipple, rolling the other one between his thumb and forefinger, “There’s just something about the sight of you in my clothes.”

At the mention of your rare signed shirt your body goes rigid, numb. If he had seen you in the shirt you mostly kept tucked away for safekeeping, he had seen everything hadn't he? 

“Don’t go all shy on me now, Princess.” He released your nipple with a pop, palming your breast with a grin as he pressed his lips against your own, “Weren’t shy when you were putting on a show for everyone, were you?”

Your bottom lip trembled at the suggestion, worrying it between your teeth as you felt Bakugou lean forward to grab your wrist in a large hand, the scent of his quirk filling the air as you felt the heat radiating from his palm. Vermilion eyes glancing down at your half-lidded ones, a glazed expression over your features as you focused on his touch.

“Look at what you fuckin’ do to me, sweetheart.” Bakugou tightened his grip on your wrist, moving your hand towards his crotch. His cock bulging against his pants, desperate to be released as he lay your palm against him. Gasping at the sensation as your palm made contact with the fabric, feeling just how hard he was for you underneath the denim.

All the while his thoughts are consumed by you, your smell, the look of surprise on your face. The feel of your skin against his and the heat of your breath tickling his ear when he pins you to the couch. 

All of the things he'd been imagining for the last few months. Your small hand against his large, twitching cock. Even through the fabric your warmth is hypnotizing, drawing him in and captivating him with every inch of you.

Bakugou's problem is that he can be greedy, hungry for more. Wanting nothing but the best and much like his sun sign, once he had his eyes set on something nothing could overcome his stubborn ambition. Not even the small look of fear in your eyes but even he can see that it is fading, melding into desire. He watches your fingers flutter, teasingly trying to figure out just how big and girthy he really was. Your heart races as you stare into his clouded vermillion eyes. Blood running hot as your mouth salivates, imagining the same thing he is. 

How does it taste? 

You let out a soft whine, fingers prodding at the head earning you a borderline feral growl. 

"Quit being a fucking tease and take it out, Princess." He groans, you freeze at his bold request.

"B..but…" He crowds you as your protests die in your throat. His lips brushing against your ear as he breathes in your sweet shampoo. 

"But what Princess? Scared I'll fuck you stupid?" He nips at the shell of your ear, chuckling darkly when you shiver, "Or are you scared you'll get addicted to how I taste?" 

"T-taste?" 

"Aw look at you acting all fuckin shy?" He squeezes your thighs with a deadly grip, fingers creeping between them, "You weren't so shy last week sitting in this spot were you?" 

You freeze as you think back to last week, knowing exactly what you were doing, eyes glancing over his broad shoulder to see the snow coming down in sheets through the large bay windows. You thought you were high enough and far enough away from the road, there, there was no way he saw right? 

His fingers press against your clothed sex, rubbing rough circles unable to keep the deadly smirk off of his lips. 

"Your phone in one hand and your other right here. Or maybe," He moves the dark fabric to the side, sliding his fingers to your clit, "It was here." 

You bite back your moans as the rough pad of his fingers circle your clit, just barely grazing over it in an agonizing purposeful fashion. 

"What were you watching again? Amateur porn right? POV with the guy's face hidden but he was in a knock off Dynamight suit wasn't he?" He pulls back to watch your face, twisting with pleasure and horror, body arching towards his touch as your head swims. Cunt clenching as he dips closer to your core for slick. 

"And what did that slutty mouth say?" His smile is cocky, holding eye contact. Silence sits between the two of you as your eyes flutter. He pulls his hand away from your throbbing clit, squeezing against your pulse point.

"I asked a question, Kitten. Now answer it." His voice is dark. 

"Dy-Dynamight." You gasp out, he ruts his hips against your leg. 

"Again." His free hand slips back between your folds, fingers setting a rapid pace that already has you teetering on the edge already. 

"Dynamight!" 

"Again. Say my name again." His fingers work you over as the coil unexpectedly snaps in your stomach. 

"Katuskiiii." You gasp and whine, shamefully cumming all over his thick digits. He groans, shoving his fingers into your cunt to feel you grip onto him, he cannot wait to feel that pretty pussy molding to his aching cock. 

But he would wait, for now. 

"Good girl." He praises, pulling his fingers from your core, licking up them. Savoring your essence as you watch his eyes flutter paying you a high compliment. In quick motions he throws a pillow onto the solid hardwood floor, pulling the hair at the nape of your neck as he pulls you onto the plush cushion. His free hand undoing his belt with deft fingers before he pulls his pants and boxers down. His cock springs free, the head leaking precum as you lick your lips. 

"You're gonna keep being a good girl for me right, Princess?" He coos, dragging his cock across your lips, smearing his sweet and salty pre from cheek to cheek. 

"Fuck do you know how long I've been dreaming of your lips around my cock?" He groans, pulling your hair back to force eye contact. 

"How, how long?" Your question prompts that nasty smile as his crimson eyes gleam with cruelty and lust.

"Months." 

And with that he pulls your hair back hard enough that you cry out in pain. Bakugou takes the opportunity to shove his cock into your mouth. Bottoming out at the back of your throat causing you to gag, your spit eases the roughness of his slow harsh thrusts as your eyes water. 

Nothing could have prepared you for feeling Bakugou inside you for the first time, your wildest fantasies didn’t equate to this. The sheer size of his thick, bulging cock made it difficult for you to take him inside your mouth. The prominent veins that forked along the side dragging against your cheek as he eased you down on his length. Fingers stroking through your hair sweetly, a stark contrast to his previous movements. His husky voice cooing down at you, gentle praises that had you keening, desperate to hear more. The red, swollen tip prodding against the back of your throat as you gagged around him, a mixture of spit and pre dribbling down your chin as you tried to fit more of him inside your mouth hungrily. 

“So fuckin’ greedy.” Bakugou grunted, his fingers carding into your messy hair and tugging harshly against the root, pressing you further down his aching cock. Watching the way your cheeks hollowed around him as you tried to adjust to his size. The movement causing fresh tears to clump in your lashes as you tried desperately to breathe through your nose. His coarse blond pubic hairs tickling your skin as he held your head down on his cock. 

Struggling for oxygen as your tongue lashed against the underside of his length, the salty sweet taste of his cum mixed with the lack of oxygen making you light headed as you felt yourself falling deeper into him. Teeth grazing his sensitive skin as you tried to relax your throat, innocent eyes gazing up at him. The sight almost had him cumming on the spot, it was something he’d thought about for months, stroking himself raw to the thought of your lips wrapped around him. You felt gentle tremors flowing through your body as he finally allowed you a moment of respite, tugging you off his length roughly as you gasped for air.

“So pretty for me,” His warm palm stroked against your cheek, dipping his thumb between your parted lips as he felt you instinctively close your mouth around it. Your tongue swirling around the calloused pad of his thumb as you heard him groan above you, “Look at you.”

“How many times have you played with that slutty little pussy to the thought of me, hah?” Bakugou mused, his thumb slipping from your mouth as he pulled down your lower lip, watching the way your face followed after his hand to try and pull him back in.

“P-please.” You trembled, already feeling your clit throbbing painfully between your thighs, already feeling unsatiated as crimson eyes glared down at you.

“I bet you’ve never had anything this big inside you,” He wrapped his palm around his cock, smirking when he noticed your eyes hyper focused on him, “Have you?”

You shook your head nervously, even the toys you’d experimented before didn’t equate to his sheer size, “N-no, Dynamight.”

“I’m gonna make you feel so fuckin’ good, Princess.” Bakugou’s thoughts already flooding to how your tight little cunt would feel being split around his cock. Moulding it to his size so you’d never be satisfied with anything or anyone else. You were going to be his and his alone, and he’d do anything to ensure that happened, “Wanna feel that tight little pussy wrapped around my cock, yeah?”

His words sending more pleasurable jolts to your core, rubbing your thighs together in anticipation as he helped you to your feet, his large palms keeping against your hips as he dipped his fingers beneath the hem of your shorts. Sliding the material down your thighs with one rough tug, exposing your naked body to his prying eyes. The sight of you completely bare in front of him had his cock twitching almost painfully, you were even more perfect than he had imagined.

“C’mere, Princess.” He cooed gently, a stark contrast to his earlier actions. You keened as you slid onto his lap, feeling his thick cock pressed snugly between your folds as you placed your hands on his broad shoulders to steady yourself. Your fingertips digging into his shirt as you tried feebly to get him to take it off.

“So needy,” He smirked, leaning forward to tug his shirt up and over his head. His chiselled abs now on full display as you focused in on each sharp ridge. He was even more perfect in person, and you couldn’t quite believe that the Dynamight was now in front of you.

Bakugou’s large palms moved back to your hips, pressing you down against his cock as you felt the length stroke against your slit, involuntarily grinding down against him as you tried to give your clit some much needed stimulation. The action did not go unnoticed by Bakugou who smirked at your desperation, digging his fingertips into your skin as he began to circle your hips against his cock. 

“You’re soaking my cock and I haven’t even put it in yet,” He smirked as he felt your slick coating his length, watching in amusement as you continued to grind yourself against him, trying to give yourself some relief, “Bet you could get yourself off just like this, hah?”

“No,” You whined, “Please,”

“Please, what?” He coaxed, his fingers slipping between your bodies to tease your puffy clit, a harsh laugh leaving his lips when he felt the way your body jerked at his touch.

“Please,” You trailed off, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous and self-conscious that you were now very much naked in front of your favourite Pro-Hero.

“You don’t seem to want it enough, Princess.” Bakugou teased, moving you away from his cock as you groaned in displeasure. Your eyes looking down at his shaft that was now coated in a layer of your slick. Fresh pre spilling from the tip as you reached out to grab him between your fingers. Bakugou’s reflexes were quicker as he caught your wrist in his large palm, giving you a warning look as his nostrils flared. 

“So fuckin’ greedy.” He moved his hands back to grab your ass, kneading the round mounds as he moved you to hover over his cock, vermilion eyes gazing up at you as he waited for you to speak, “You want my cock?”

“Yeah-” You felt your head nodding before you’d even had a chance to think, desperate to feel him sliding inside your warmth, splitting you open as he buried himself deep inside you. 

“Yeah?” He mocked, tilting his head to the side as he pressed a kiss against your pebbled nipple, “Then fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Please, Dynamight.” You rolled your hips again, grinding against nothing as you tried to create some friction between your thighs, “Want your cock.”

A groan spilled from his lips at such blunt words leaving your pouty lips, calloused fingertips digging into your supple flesh as he pressed you down on the head of his cock. The tip stretching you out slightly as you tried to drop your hips down on him, wanting to feel him deep inside you.

“You want Dynamight to fuck this slutty pussy?” He pulled you away from his cock which caused a needy whine to spill from your lips, trying to angle your hips back towards his length.

Bakugou’s palm wrapping around his cock to drag the swollen, reddened tip along your sopping folds. Feeling your slick coat his skin as it mingled with his pre, watching the way your eyes fluttered at the sensation of his cockhead brushing against your clit.

“Yes.” You hissed, already anticipating the pleasurable stretch his girth would create inside you. The thick head already back at your tight entrance as he watched you shamelessly try and drop your hips down onto him. 

"Yes what?" His voice is dark with pleasure as he glares up at you, a pitiful mess. He's toying with you, as a cat does a mouse and you feel utterly embarrassed. This was Pro hero Dynamight damn it, you wanted to make a good impression. You wanted to be sexy, not some whiny bitch in heat. 

Little did you know how much Bakugou loved it, lived for it as he gently bounced you on just the tip. Driving you wild as you whined, all the while he smirked. 

"Please Katsuki-sama." Your nails rake down his forearms, "Please, please fuck me." 

"That's my good girl." He slams you down on his cock in one swift motion causing your vision to spot. He relishes the way you flutter around him, adjusting as a shiver runs up your spine. 

"Now fuck yourself on my cock, Princess." 

"But-" He wraps his hand around your throat, malice and lust dance in his eyes as his free hand travels to your thigh. Palm heating with each pound of your heart until it begins to become too much, too hot.

"Ride me like you did your fingers last week. You were thinking of me then weren't you, pervert?” You gasped at his crude words, the idea that he had been watching you while you dipped your fingers inside your tight cunt had embarrassment ebbing in your core. Your body trembling as the object of your affections degraded you, “Wishing it was me finger fuckin’ that pretty pussy, yeah?”

Unable to stop the shameless moan that left your parted lips, the sound restricted to a strangled gasp as he kept his palm wrapped tightly around your jugular. 

“Or were you thinking of Red Riot since you love wearing his merch so much, hah.” Bakugou goaded, you could feel his grip against you tightening as his palms heated up dangerously, “Wishing he’d come in and bend you over like the little slut you are.”

“N-no,” You tried to gasp out, feeling lightheaded from the lack of oxygen that flowed through your body.

Bakugou loosened his grip around your neck, keeping his palm against your skin as he leaned his head closer to yours, his warm breath fanning your face as vermilion eyes bored into your own, “What was that?”

“J-just you, Dynamight.” You rasped, a rush of air filling your lungs as your chest heaved against him, “Only for you-”

“Yeah?” His lips curled into a cocky grin, immediately tightening his grip around your throat once more, “That’s fuckin’ right, you should be thinking about me when you play with that sloppy pussy.”

He squeezes both your throat and thigh harder. You rock your hips, fucking yourself on his fat cock as you gasp for air, hands desperately holding onto toned arms for support as the coil in your stomach begins to snap. 

“Now I want you to fuckin' show me how much of a Dynamight fan you really are." He groans at the way you grip around him, tongue lulling past his smirk for just as second. 

If you had to try and describe this feeling it would be something akin to euphoria, a constant throb ebbing through your cunt at the dull stretch his cock caused around your core. His cock moulding you to his shape as he bounced you on his lap, the thick jutting veins along his girth dragging against your inner walls with each pronounced thrust. Desperate cries of pleasure spilling from your lips as he fucked himself into you, hungrily searching to pull more of those sweet sounds from your pretty lips. You felt pearly tears begin to clump in your lashes as he fucked into your tight cunt with vigour, uncaring for giving you a moment of respite as he hungrily used you for his own pleasure. 

“Aw, you gonna cry, Princess?” He sneered, vermilion eyes gazing down at your own as he kept his pace, “I know you fuckin’ love it. I can feel you squeezing my cock.”

“Please-” You couldn’t think of the words, your mind foggy with the juxtaposition of pleasure and pain overwhelming you as he continued to fuck you with reckless abandon. 

“Don’t tell me I’ve already fucked you stupid, dumbass.” He grunted, the calloused pads of his fingers digging into the plush skin of your thighs, crude noising filling the air as you could hear just how wet you were for him, “That sloppy pussy is drooling all over my cock.”

"Who do you belong to?" His husky voice wraps around you like a vice, pulling your heart into your stomach. 

"You." You gasp as the heat of his palm on your leg begins to burn, skin warping beneath his touch. Hand glowing golden as if he were a God while his quirk begins to really activate. The smell of spiced caramel, smoke and scalded flesh cling to the couch and invade your senses as a crude whimper leaves your parted lips. The skin that he’d just burned throbbing under his touch, as heat surged through your body. His sharp thrusts helping to morph the pain you felt into a pure, unabashed pleasure as he watched you worry your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Good girl. Now everyone will know exactly who you belong to." Your eyes flicker away from his face before he uses his finger behind your jaw to meet his gaze, "Look at your King when you cum."

The combination of pleasure and pain paired with the thought of being his makes that delicate coil snap. Your body tenses and freezes as you shake atop his lap, biting nails drawing blood on his arms. He smirks, fucking up into you as another mind numbing orgasim washes over your body. Without withdrawing himself he flips the two of you against the couch. 

“Fuck, look at you.” Your back presses into the cushions as he towers over you. Gazing down and into your eyes as he slowly thrusts into you, switching hands to place one on your unburnt thigh, “So fuckin’ pretty.”

The telltale sounds of his quirk sound in the room as his hands crackle, heating his other palm, readying himself to repeat the action. To mark your body and claim you as his own, so if anyone dared to look at you they would know exactly who you belonged. Permanent hand prints marking you as his. No one else was allowed to have you, not that you had a choice, at least not anymore. 

Bakugou hissed as he felt your cunt continue to flutter around him in the aftershocks of your climax, snapping his hips as his pelvis hits against your puffy clit, head swimming from both pleasure and your primal need to breathe that was being wholly denied.

Bakugou was going to ruin you and you'd let him. 

"Who owns this pretty pussy?" Another possessive question that rockets you to the edge, body hoping for another mark, to make you symmetrical. 

Whole. 

"You." Another raspy breath but it's enough for Bakugou to hear. A silent moan tears from your throat as you try to keep your eyes locked with his. Pain blooming on your thigh with a delicious bite. 

 “What was that?” He snarled, pressing your thigh up against your chest as his arm slid underneath your knee, resting your calf over his shoulder as he changed the angle of his thrusts, his cock delving deeper between your folds as you felt the swollen tip bruising your cervix with each hard rut of his hips, “Say my name.”

“Dynamight.” You called out, already feeling your body throbbing in the telltale signs of another orgasm, your thighs quivering as you felt Bakugou fuck your body into the couch hard before using his grip on your thigh to drag you back into him. 

The crude sound of skin against skin vibrated around the room as his meaty balls slapped against the swell of your ass, Bakugou’s muscular frame dwarfing your own as he used you for his own pleasure. His own little cocksleeve that would succumb to his every request, you would be his and his alone to use as he pleased. 

“Again.” A low growl sounded from the back of his throat, a possessive undertone to it as he urged you on, “Say it again.”

“Dynamight.” You managed to whimper through sobs, tears trickling down your temples now and soaking into your messy hair. The sound of his name spilling from your lips made him readjust his thrusts with newfound intensity. 

“That’s fuckin’ right. Red Riot would never fuck you this good, hah?” He provoked, a clear sign of dominance over you, “You’re fuckin’ made for my cock.”

A cry slipping from your lips as he gave a particularly hard thrust inside your aching cunt, the tip of his length pounding against your cervix as he worked to claim your body as his own, trying to wipe thoughts of anyone else from your mind so all you could think about in this moment was his fat cock buried deep inside your tight heat.

“God, you’re fuckin’ perfect.” He grunted, his eyes mapping out your body as he worked himself against you, “Feel so good.”

Your breasts bounced with the intensity of his thrusts as he felt your inner walls quivering around his cock, already feeling another orgasm creeping up on you, the coil inside you impossibly tight as you tried to remember to breathe. Your vision hazy as you felt yourself becoming lightheaded, white dots blanking your vision as you shook beneath him.

“You gonna cum again already? Greedy fuckin’ bitch.” Bakugou’s lips curved into a grin as he felt your fingernails dig into his forearms, leaving crescent shapes in their wake as a dull ache tingled against his skin at the sensation, “My cock’s better than your fuckin’ fingers, yeah?”

“Yes,” You hissed, your toes curling as you felt yourself succumb to the pleasure. Your tight heat clenching around Bakugou’s cock as an usual sensation flowed through you, an intense throb in your core as you felt the unwavering urge to pee. Tightening your thighs around Bakugou’s firm body in an attempt to stop it from happening as wracked sobs left your body, your lower lip trembling as the sensation became too much. Too intense, too overwhelming as you allowed it to take over, your body crying out as you came. A clear stream of liquid gushing from between your thighs and soaking Bakugou’s crotch, his pace never once faltering as he fucked you through the sensation.

“Look at you, you messy fuckin’ slut” He howled in pleasure as he watched the liquid seep from your folds, “Look at your sloppy little pussy soakin’ my cock.”

“I’m sorry-” You cried out in embarrassment, feeling your heart pound in your chest as you saw his abdomen glistening with your release, “I didn’t mean-”

“What? You never fuckin’ squirted before?” Bakugou’s lips curled into a sly smile, his chest puffed out in pride, “Let’s see if you can do it again.”

Bakugou slipped a hand between your connected bodies to press four fingers against your clit, rubbing it frantically side to side as he tried to prolong the sensation, watching to see more of the clear liquid escape your heat. 

"I can make this pretty little cunt do what I want. Wanna know why?" He leans in with a deadly grin on his lips,  "Cause I own it." 

You cried out as you felt the sensation flowing through you once more, a dull ache in your lower body as more of the clear liquid gushed from your folds. The sight made Bakugou smirk with glee, his fingers relentless against your sensitive nub.

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you?” He goaded, feeling your body trying to shy away from him as you withered beneath him, the pleasure becoming overwhelming, “That fuckin’ desperate.”

“P-please,” You whimpered, your entire body felt unbearably hot. Unable to think coherently as Bakugou continued pounding his thick girth into your core, his warm breath fanning your face as he hovered above you.

“P-please,” He mocked, tilting his head as he glanced down at you, “Please, what?”

“‘S too much,” You stammered, your hand reaching down to wrap around his wrist, trying to tug his fingers away from their assault against your clit.

The movement made him growl, baring his teeth as his hand moved from your clit, reaching up to wrap around the curve of your neck instead as he instantly tightened his grip against your jugular. The action caused your eyes to widen in surprise before your soft whines turned into hungry pants as you tried to gasp for air. Bakugou’s consistent thrusts into your sloppy hole made it difficult to think straight, your body fully focused on the sight of him above you while his hand wrapped tightly around your neck. 

“Gonna fill that sloppy little pussy with cum, yeah?” You flushed at the suggestion, already feeling your inner walls fluttering around his cock at the thought, squeezing his girth as it created more friction as he dragged his cock along your velvety walls, his grip on your neck tightening as you felt your cunt clench around his cock in response, “You’re gonna look so pretty for me all full of my cum, Princess.”

A guttural groan spilled from his parted lips as you watched his eyes roll back, his thrusts stuttering as he came, bottoming out inside you as white hot spurts of cum splashed against your inner walls. His palms stroking along your exposed skin, sliding against the thin sheen of sweat that coated your body as he came down from his climax, humping a few more sloppy thrusts into your cunt as he cherished the sweet way your walls continued to flutter around him. 

You whined as Bakugou slowly eased his hips back, slipping his softening cock out of your quivering folds. His eyes immediately focused on your abused hole as he watched his cum begin to trickle out of you as it dribbled down towards your ass. Unable to resist reaching a finger out to collect the mixture, scooping it up as he slowly pushed it back inside you. Smirking at the way you tried to bat his hand away from your overstimulated folds, this only making him want to tease you more as he moved his finger to press against your inner walls. Swallowing thickly as he felt your body involuntarily clamping down around him in an attempt to pull him back inside you. 

“Such a good girl for me, Princess.” He moved his fingers up to stroke against your puffy clit, laughing at the way you arched your hips away from his touch, trying to stop him from teasing your satiated clit, “Took my cock so well.” 

You mewl in response, clutching your arms to yourself as you shake from the previous events. You looked so small and scared causing a sharp pain to bolt through Bakugou's chest. God he wanted you in his care even more now.

“You were even more perfect than I imagined.” He pulls you to him, trapping you in his embrace as he presses your face into his chest. Hand smoothing your damp hair as he hums lightly. His eyes catching sight of the Red Riot shirt he’d discarded to the floor, a thought occurred to him, one he cannot keep to himself, as another sadistic smile settled on his lips. 

“Kirishima told me not to come over here, said to leave you alone-” He pulls you back so you can look at him, and gods the look you're giving him. Eyes soft and submissive, hazed over in mind numbing pleasure as you float off somewhere far away. Only Bakugou's arms are keeping you bound to Earth. “But I was right wasn’t I, Princess?”

You'll never be able to escape his gravity now. 

“He just wanted you for himself.” His fingers feather over your body before he stands, guessing where the first aid could be. You clutch onto his shirt, eyes desperately glued to your new God as the fading sun washes him over in deep hues of red. The way you look at him makes his cock twitch, feeling the intense power he already holds over you. 

"You'll let your King go." A growl as his fingers find your throat, you nod with fresh tears catching on long lashes as he steps away. Sobbing from his absence before he returns. 

"Don't be a baby, I wasn't that far Princess." His voice all bite while his hands speak the truth. Calloused and scared fingers pressing ointment into the fresh burns tenderly. 

“But you’re mine now aren’t you Princess?” He dots over the burns, rubbing the salve in gently, “All mine.”

He leans away from you, cruelty ever plastered on his smirking lips. 

“Maybe I should show Red Riot what you look like right now, hah?” He pulls out his phone, going to snap a picture. You're hesitant at first but then move to strike a pose, wide eyes looking into the lens of the camera as Bakugou angles it to get the dark bruises and scars that now marr your perfect skin. "Fuck, I think showing him what a good girl you are in person would be much better." 

“W-we shouldn’t-“ You mumble, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought of your sweet neighbour seeing you like this, utterly debauched because of Pro-Hero Dynamight. 

“Don’t be shy, pretty girl.” He coos uncharacteristically, almost mocking you as he watches your lower lip tremble, “I’m sure Red Riot would love to see you like this. Probably jerks himself raw to the thought of you.”

He eases you to your feet, sliding your shorts over your thighs as you hiss when they get to the fresh brand. Your mouth waters from pain as you look down at them. His perfect palm prints etched into your skin forever. You bite your bottom lip, wanting more from Bakugou who slips his jacket over your shoulders before putting your snow boots onto your feet. He makes his way to the door.

"Comin' pervert?" He asks before you rush to your feet,  “Shall we show Red Riot what a desperate little slut his neighbour is?” 

He wraps his arm around your shoulders, engulfing you in his mesmerizing scent and heat. You nod slowly, wanting nothing more than to please your new caretaker. 

“Gotta remind that asshole who the fuck you belong to.”

[georgiaheartsdilfs]

→ nightmares bucky b x f!reader

my masterlist ↪M A S T E R L I S T

prompt ↪ "i heard you yell, i was just checking on you" he's only your neighbour and despite only talking to him a few times, you cared for him.

warnings / other notes ↪ short

My apartment complex wasn't busy, most people preferred the bottom floors compared to the top. Just so happens only me and a few others live on the top of the building.

My next door neighbour, James. I know he's Captain America's best friend, I never mention it though, I think its a sensitive topic when I speak to James.

Although I've only spoken to him a few times in my life he seemed awfully sarcastic, well spoken but sarcastic and socially awkward. We bump into each other in the hallway when we both are heading out or something.

Tonight I was up late writing an incident report for something that happened in court today, being a lawyer wasn't easy especially if the client that hired you doesn't follow anything you say.

I was running on caffeine and energy drinks, it was just a typical Saturday night for me.

My fingers gently pressed against the keyboard on my laptop writing words today, the client was eagerly wanting to plead guilty, lashing out at not only the judge but the witness. My client has no previous mental illnesses or reasons to be in jail so why he would want to be there is beyond me.

Grabbing the half empty cup of coffee sipping it before placing it back down on my desk, re-reading anything I had written down in the past ten minutes, correcting any grammatical error.

My eyes started to grow bags at the sight of all the writing, law school had obviously helped me career wise. Certainly not mentally or physically but living in New York isn't easy.

Continuing to press the keys a words formed on my screen my phone buzzes "who would message me at this time" I mumble getting up, dawdling over to my bedside table reaching for the phone.

A loud yell comes from the other side of my bedroom wall, the side in which James had lived.

Forgetting about the phone I race out my door to James knocking on it loudly. Although he had a metal arm I always feared for his safety.

Moments later the door opened "James' I smile sweetly, his head was sweaty, his face red and he was panting "y/n" he said swallowing before clearing his throat "I uh- i heard you yell, i was just checking on you" I sigh in relief.

I hadn't known him too well, but I knew him well enough to care for him.

"I'm fine" he nods huffing and puffing, his dog tags hanging out the collar of his shirt, this was the first time I had seen everything. The tags, the hair all muffled, the shirt hanging loosely and his metal arm.

He had mentioned it previously, but due to fear of judgement he never showed me "are you, uh okay?" he asks pointing at my shirt that had a coffee stain and I chuckle "yeah just late nights" I clear my throat and he nods.

"was it nightmares?" I ask him and he tilts his head "ptsd?" I continue and he shakes his head "No i'm fine." he says trying to reassure me.

"it's completely normal you know." I say ignoring his assurance, he eventually nods "yeah it was just nightmares, no ptsd." he says giving a half smile.

"i know we don't know each other well, if you wanted to talk?" I say and he shakes his head awkwardly "i'm ok, i- uh i have a therapist so" he says biting his tongue and I nod "ok well thats good" I smile to him "have a good night James." I say before walking back to my door.

"It's Bucky" he says stopping me in my tracks and I spin around "James is my legal name, you can call me Bucky" he says and "oh thats cool" I say and he nods "actually" I say "since you're up and I assume you aren't going to bed anytime soon..." I drag on the last word.

"and since you haven't closed the door on met yet, would you like to come over. I can make coffee and not spill it on you, maybe if you don't fall asleep i could complain about my latest client?" I ask "uh" he says before looking into his apartment "sure" he says "i'll just grab my keys" he says walking back into his apartment.

A few minutes later he walks out with his keys and a leather jacket and gloves "you don't need those." my finger pointing at his gloves, he must've assumed I was scared or worried about his metal arm, I thought it made him unique.

He takes off his gloves throwing them back into his apartment before closing the door, following me to my apartment.

"I hope it's up to your standards, i'm not home all the time of course you know since your my neighbour" I chuckle tidying stuff up on the table, pushing my hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear.

"it's nice, has more furniture than mine." he chuckles looking around "you can come into my room, that's where I do my work." I chuckle leaving the stuff on the table in a neat pile walking to my room.

This would be the first time James, I mean Bucky was invited into my home and it was messy. I could've tried harder but then again I didn't think I'd invite someone in at 2 in the morning.

"so who's the client?" he says laying on my bed "his name is Kent Brentwood, he's up for aggravated assault, forgery and 3 counts of first-degree murder." I smack my lips sitting at my desk and James raises his eyebrows.

"oooh" he says and I nod "I mean the man is clearly innocent, he looks like someone you bully but he's literally egging the trial on, he wants to be in jail. I just don't know why?" I mumble.

"he's going in there to kill someone, or it's money it's simple." he shrugs "but no evidence" I huff leaning back in my chair "I could get it out of him..." Bucky suggests "No, no, if all goes bad. I didn't represent the guy." I mumble my fingers tapping repetitively on the backspace key.

"coffee?" I ask him and he shakes his head "no thanks" he said staring intently at my screen "oh right, laptop with all my work." I point to it and he nods almost as if he had never seen it before.

"uh huh" he smiles "you're bed is comfortable." he says patting the space around him "it was a gift from my Aunt" I smile to him spinning my chair around to face him fully.

I stare at him, waiting for him to say something about his nightmares. I think he understood what I was doing because he sighed before starting another conversation "is it hard being a criminal defense lawyer?" he asks.

"Well I did have this client, Scott Lang the infamous Ant Man for the uh whole Iron Man v Cap." I say and he looks down disappointed "I don't know why I got him as my first case, I had no faith but I got him down to a couple years and home detention." I smile proud of myself.

"You should be proud of yourself." he says "I am" I smile.

Getting up off my chair I sit next to him on my bed "nightmares" I look down at him "please don't, no y/n, don't" he whines "come on Bucky atleast tell me how you feel when it happens or something, I don't wanna hear you screaming at night, it's heart wrenching." I mumble the last few words and he sighs sitting up.

"fine" he says clearing his throat "i'm assuming since you mentioned Steve" he pauses and I nod "yup" I smile "Well it's the day I died, Steve and I were on a train in Germany, i think." he says.

"I had fallen off the train and Steve tried reaching for me, he failed and its just that on repeat. When I hit the ground it changes to... this being put on" he mumbles raising his metal arm.

"then it's just my whole life, all the killings on repeat until it gets to one killing, someone who is very much alive and then I wake up." he says "like the state I found you in?" I ask and he nods. "those are my nightmares." he says and I grab his metal arm "if anything I'd be thankful that I could put this arm in the freezer and use it as an ice pack in summer." I say and he laughs. "an ice pack?"

[haitaini]

hanma handcuffed to the bedframe probably with a vibrator on his dick n you just leave him there so when you come back he's fucked out from overstimulation with pools of cum all over his upper body n thigh

oh god i love subby hanma so much yall dont understand..

warnings: subby hanma, femdom reader, overstimulation, subspace and aftercare. also degradation cause he lives for that shit keke

"since you dont know how to fucking act anymore, youre gonna stay here until im done with my work, understood shuji?" you mutter, frustrated from the constant bratty behavior hes been showing all day. he nods, watching you tie the ropes around his wrists together, a pretty bright red surrounding his arms and legs, a vibrator tied to his cock as well, although its not on yet.

the thought of whats going to happen to him giving him a strong adrenaline rush, excitement flooding his brain. he is going to be properly fucked out. the mental picture of it is making his cock twitch and that does not go unnoticed by you. furrowing your brows together and frowning, you slap his thigh, making sure the impact stings after a few seconds which makes him moan out. "whore.." you mutter and continue with what youre doing.

"okay, im gonna go continue with my work, ill be back in around an hour or so, got it? nod if you do," you let out, leaning against the door frame of your shared bedroom. he nods, wondering why the vibrator isnt buzzing yet, he even thought that maybe his dick is broken. "perfect, be good okay pretty boy? ill come back soon." you grin and walk out, leaving hanma staring in confusion. why the fuck isnt it working? did she start it yet? he would call you and ask, but you gagged him using his damp, filthy boxers so hes unable to.

however, his thoughts immediately get interrupted as he feels vibrations erupting to his cock, letting out a loud muffled moan at the stimulation. he was already turned on, pent up sexual frustration eating at him which resulted in him asking for your attention the entire time while youre trying to get your report ready for work, but he wouldnt have it. because of that, he feels himself nearing to an orgasm faster than he thought he would, cock twitching uncontrollably, letting out the most pitiful whines and moans as he cums all over himself, spurting out in four powerful spurts messing up his chest.

at this point he'd have a break to calm down before he continues with you, but that did not happen and the vibrator just kept on buzzing on his poor sensitive dick. shocks of pain shooting through his body as his oversensitive cock continues getting stimulated and he realizes, oh shit, im literally gonna get tortured in this hour or so. he has tears welling up in his eyes, wetting his lashes before he unconsciously starts bucking his hips, squirming all over the bed, cock begging for the buzzing to stop. but hanma feels like he's in heaven, the pain making his head go dumb, melting out of his ears as he tries to moan out your name before cumming once again, but this time in weaker spurts.

this continues for another thirty minutes. too weak to move any part of his body, or even moan and whine. hes completely fucked out, his eyes lidded and the prettiest blush decorating his face, sweat dripping down the side of his head. you enter the room, watching him pant, his chest moving up and down and the moment he spots you, he lets out the weakest whine youve ever heard him let out. you coo at the sight, basically drowning in his own cum making you grin before you reach for the remote and turn it off. "aww look at my pretty boy, you fucked out enough yet? did you get to cum the way you were begging to earlier? huh, you fucking bratty bitch?" you murmur, watching more tears slide down his face as he nods and lets out a weak "yes mommy" in reply. "good boy, still got your manners hm? how many times did you cum?" you ask, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, your heart melting at the sight of him so weak and vulnerable. "too dumb to remember angel? thats okay, im here now. lets get you cleaned up and fed, i got your favorite, baby!" you say smiling at his attempt in grinning as you hand him a glass or room temp water. "mkay, love you."